


Lilykai Kodel, Ranger of Ratik

by kellyspring



Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game)
Genre: Adventure, Based on actual D&D campaign notes, Eventual Romance, F/M, Gen, Grayhawk, Mystery, Ranger class, Ratik
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-21
Updated: 2020-06-15
Packaged: 2021-03-01 20:55:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 13
Words: 27,951
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23773426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kellyspring/pseuds/kellyspring
Summary: The Rangers of Ratik were a secretive bunch. While their presence was known throughout the kingdom; after all they were entrusted to uphold the laws of Ratik, their adventures and specific activities were rarely documented or discussed other than the stories they might've shared while along their runs and the official documents to their headquarters, which to this day are never released.Upon her death, the Baroness Niyil of the Southern District released these journals that belonged to her ancestor Lilykai Kodel. The Ranger Kodel, as Lilykai was referred to in many historic texts, has remained an enigma for Ratik historians. Part hero, part villain, part legend, her story seems to change based on the storyteller. Perhaps this is the reason the Baroness chose to release her family's only remaining artifacts pertaining to its famous (or infamous) member.Her story, her journal, begins on the very first encounter of her inaugural run.
Kudos: 1





	1. First Day - introduction

I'm heading towards the Kalera Farmstead, my first stop as a fully fledged “strider”. As a Ranger Messenger (what a Cadet does prior to receiving full Ranger status) I have actually been to this farm and met Arminus, Tyni, and their son Diomedes before. I am glad that my first stop is with someone I know. Last time I was here Arminus was trying to show Dio how to use the sling, I wonder if he's any good with it. I've been on this trail, little more than a game trail, for a few days. Spending a night indoors will be a blessing. 

About a mile away from the farmstead the cold suddenly snaps. The altitude has been generally increasing but this sudden drop in temp tells me a snowstorm is quickly approaching. I had noticed a few flurries up the mountain earlier this morning and now it is becoming constant snowfall. I stop to button up my coat fully and regain my bearings to continue West towards the foothills of the Griff Mountains.

It occurs to me, as the snowfall increases, that at this time in the afternoon Dio is probably up the slope away from the farm with their flock. If the snow storm caught me off guard, it could have surprised him as well. I decide to change course and head straight to the upper meadow where they graze their sheep instead of the farmhouse so I can assist him getting the flock down the mountain in the worsening conditions. 

I break through the snow into the high pasture; a horrific sight unfolds before me. A pack of hungry wolves has surrounded Arminus and are biding their time to strike.

They are circling Arminus, and don't yet notice my arrival. I have to choose: attack the Alpha pair facing him or go after the 3 larger wolves circling behind. They still haven't spotted me yet so I decide to take out the Alphas as the others might run away when their leaders are dead. It is a risk, but I have to react quickly if I am to save him. I leap into the fray between Arminus and the large pair, bringing my long sword down fast. In this wind, my bow is useless. The Alpha male's head goes flying in one blow - lucky break. Arminus stabs at the female with a pitchfork! At this moment the 3 behind us are joined by a fourth and decide to pounce. I turn to aid Arminus and take out 2 of the wolves quickly, but not fast enough as I realize Arminus is laying still at my feet. His blood is on the muzzles of the remaining two wolves who snarl menacingly at me, the one who interferes with their meal.

"Hang on Arminus!" Suddenly I am hit with a rock.....I guess that kid is working the sling after all. The remaining wolves circle and lunge. I turn my attention to the pack, keeping myself between them and Arminus. It's just a blur at this point: swing my sword, hit, blood, dodge, kill. In the end there are 5 more dead wolves, I think there were at least 9 to start before the remaining ran away, some wounded. I want to give chase but I'm covered in blood and some of it is my own. It's best to stay and help the family.

Diomedes is terrified and in shock at seeing his Father's prone form. He is babbling and explaining that he was taking the flock of sheep down when the pack came upon him out of nowhere. His Dad was trying to hold them back to allow him to escape. We check Arminus; I'm hoping he is merely unconscious....but he is gone. Dammit. 

"Go get your mom, have her bring a sheet." My voice sounds rougher and harsher than I intended. I'm angry at my failure. I try again, this time with a softer tone. "Dio, I need you to get your mom to help us get the sheep and your Dad back to the farm. Please hurry."

Dio looks like the last thing he wants to do is leave the meadow, leave his fallen father. "I'll stay here with him. Take the pitchfork." I hand him the dropped weapon. He nods, realizing that staying here won't change what happened. I watch his form disappear rapidly in the falling snow, the forgotten sheep meandering and bleating down the path.

It doesn't take long for them to return; at least it doesn't seem long to me as I sit and contemplate my failure to protect my charges right from the start. Two forms, one slightly taller than his mother, materialize out of the worsening blizzard. At the sight of her lost husband I get to see Tyni fall apart. 

I take the proffered sheet from Dio as he comforts his remaining parent and roll Arminus in his burial shroud. We descend together, the living and the dead.

Welcome to the Ranger Corps.


	2. New Friends

I knew from the outset this job was not an easy one. I have overheard plenty of my Uncle's tales shared with my folks when they thought I had gone to bed. I am prepared for a fight, I am prepared for outright battle but digging a grave for a person I knew, a husband, a father....it is just.....not expected. At least not so soon. 

We bury Arminus the same day of the attack. I don't want to risk the wolves following our scent and returning. We also need to do it before the ground starts to freeze. Waiting just wouldn't do any good. It is a solemn event, the three of us burying Armimus. I don't have any words to fill the silence and neither do they. After a moment we return inside. I hear Tyni mourning her loss quietly throughout the night.

I stick around for a few days to help the pair plant their winter wheat and prepare the farm for winter. They're amazed I know my way around a farm....I grew up doing this kind of stuff. We don't plant wheat back home, but I know how to work a plow. I also feel I owe them a bit. Tyni is a gifted healer and her ministrations combined with my healing ointments ensure I don't meet the same fate at Arminus. I was much closer to falling than I would like to think. 

On the 5th Day I'm ready to move on. I've helped as much as possible, and I can't afford to be late to my next destination. 

"Do you want me to deliver a message to anyone. Any other kin you would like me to notify?" I ask Tyni during my last meal with them.

"No, you can just include it in your report. Make sure it's in the official records." Tyni replies. "You could let Rollo and Bathilda Artus know, they are our nearest neighbors."

I nod. Artus farm is about a week from here. The Northern district is expansive and sparsely populated. I'm not sure I could take the isolation, having grown up on a working farm with our "farm family" always nearby, a constant bustle of activity. Neighbors and workers always showing up to help each other during planting and harvest and all the times in between.

Taking out my map I locate my next appointed destination further north at the base of the Griff Mountain Range. Oddly, this is a place I've never heard of before. As the messenger in this area, I had access to an official map, but this location wasn't on it. Perhaps it's because as a messenger I only had to stop at the garrisons, my trip to Kalera farm had been for a special delivery. Still, my curiosity is peaked.

It is a great day to run. The sun is out but the air is still crisp. I button up and go; the forest is lovely. Many of the trees are bare from the snow unceremoniously stripping them of their leaves and I'm beginning to enter the land of the tallest evergreens I've ever seen. I'm able to cover a lot of ground quickly and soon find myself over the next ridge and into a new valley.

There is a slight movement to my left. Glancing in the direction I am surprised to see a Satyr keeping pace with me. Matching me stride for stride, with a grin. I have heard a lot of stories about Satyrs, both good and bad. My Uncle Eldiss, a Ranger Captain, once said "If they don't like you, then you're in trouble, and if they DO like you....well, you're still in trouble." 

I have no idea what to expect so I simply keep my pace and nod a greeting. That gets his attention. Now there is one thing I can tell you for sure about Satyrs and that is they like to talk A LOT and show off A LOT. I mean running backwards...really! Showoff. I learn from this particular one, whose name in my language is Sun Cow (merely an assortment of grunts and neighs in his native tongue), that I am passing through his home. I decide to take a diplomatic approach and formally request safe passage, which is granted with a jaunty grin. 

We continue to make small talk while running. He begins to show me more and more "interest" which is becoming a bother because I am studying him and don't believe I stand a chance in combat with him, so fighting him off is not a preferable option. Perhaps my unease is apparent as he suddenly decides to bid me farewell, but not before encouraging me to fish from his stream. 

"Enjoy your fishing!" He calls out over his shoulder as he bounds with ease through the underbrush. I can't help but ask myself if it might be a trap. My classmates at the Academy always said I was too suspicious of everything. But I say suspicious keeps you alive. I'd like to keep moving, but a nice lunch does sound good, and Suncow has essentially disappeared from sight......and I am afraid that I might insult him unintentionally if I don't at least try. I am overthinking the situation like I always do.

So OK, I'll fish. Here's the rub, I don't have any fishing gear with me. Unfortunately, he didn't invite me to shoot his rabbits so I might as well figure out how to catch fish with my bare hands. Once I find the nearest stream I shuck off my pack, boots and socks and roll up my pant legs. I peer into the running water and sure enough it is teeming with fish. Hell, you could practically walk across the stream on their backs there are so many. Watching the quick speed of the trout causes me to change tactics.

I decide to cut a branch and make a spear to skewer my lunch, and hopefully not my own foot. I have honed an ash branch and stripped the bark away, don't know if this will work, but here goes. Balancing myself, I crouch upon two rocks that are slightly under the frigid waterline. Quickly enough my feet feel pleasantly numb and I take aim with my spear. I strike and miss over and over, set up again, find a better foothold annnnnddd BINGO, strike true! He's a big one, and I almost lose him because my spear design needs improvement. It turns into a damn big fish fight, the fish fighting to fling itself off my stick and me fighting not to dunk my ass in the water. I think there was some screaming. I'm sure there was a lot of cussing in both Common and Elvish. Through the trees behind me I hear the tinkling of laughter. 

Finally, I make it to land without falling. Quickly bashing it on a rock, it finally stops flailing. I clean and prep it on the edge of the stream. I'm feeling pretty good, caught fish, didn't bust my ass, still relatively dry....all good. As I filet the fish on the riverbank I hear the sounds of a pan flute....hmmm, this makes me nervous. 

I honored his generous request to fish, I can now pack up and move on without fear of insulting my host. I hope. I know Satyr's can be persistent when they want something. Hopefully we're good and I won't have any problem, I still expect trouble at any moment. I slowly pack everything away and put my boots back on, giving Suncow plenty of opportunity to visit once more. He keeps to himself and I see this as a sign it's OK to move on.

I begin running again and make it just to the edge of the final ridge of my next destination when the sunlight begins to fade fast. Finding a tree large enough to make camp under I start a fire and pan fry my dinner, the fish goes well with some of the root vegetables Tyni gave me. 

As I sit back and let hot tea warm my hands and insides I hear a quiet noise and look up to see one of the largest stag's I've ever laid eyes on. I swear it's as big as a warhorse and it is pure white. Absolutely stunning. Even the hunter in me sees that this guy is too amazing to ever kill. He studies me carefully, lowers his head (oh shit, don't charge, don't charge, I don't wanna kill you, I don't wanna die) and then turns and bounds away. I draw a deep breath. Then I notice that there was a larger than normal rabbit watching the stag along with me. We lock eyes and then the moment is broken by a huge, huge owl that sweeps down and carries poor bunny away. All I can think is "Better you than me buddy". I decide it is time to set up an "alarm" system with my twine and eating/cooking utensils since I have obviously decided to camp in the "forest of extraordinary large animals".

The night goes without incident. It gets a little colder but no more snow, it's holding off. We're definitely experiencing an early winter, I wonder how this is going to affect things on the run. I eat my remaining fish for breakfast and have more tea. I am about an hour from my next destination. My map merely states "Hunting Lodge" in an area that my previous messenger map had nothing. Curiosity killed this cat, so here we go. I check tracks as I depart the forest looking for any more signs of Suncow, but there is nothing to see. 

I cross over the ridge peak, the one I didn't want to tackle last night, and look down the valley before me. Thick forest, some open plains, creek basin....pretty standard geography for the region. Of course there is a dusting of snow on everything. Between the altitude and the earlier blizzard, everything is pretty well covered. As I study the terrain I notice the rather large structure far down the hill from where I stand. This is not a run of the mill hunting lodge. This belongs to somebody rich, and important...or at least self important. My day just went to shit, I'm gonna have to check in on some pretty rich boy's hunting lodge and listen to them whine, or brag, or anything in between. Maybe I can go back and get Suncow and sic him on them.....that would be fun, well, for me anyway. Might as well get this over with. I begin my descent.

I approach this massive structure: river rock, hand hewn timber logs, slate roof, 3 chimneys, and 3 floors. I see smoke coming out of the chimneys (all three) and hear many horses in the stable. Damn, so much for nobody being home. I have no idea who this belongs to or what to expect to find. Out this far in winter anyone could have decided to make this stop their home. It could be bandits, poachers, deserters, anybody.....or worse yet..the actual owners! Time to find out. First, I go to the stables, I count 6 horses and 6 saddles hanging up. So I'm outnumbered. I decide it might be best to come in through the back, maybe get an idea of what I'm dealing with before anybody starts talking at me. I go to the back door. It smells like it leads to the kitchen. I hear somebody kicking around in there so I decide to.....knock politely (well, what else would I do?!). I hear cursing and the clatter of pots and pans. OK, that's understandable, the last thing you might expect out in the middle of nowhere is a knock at the back door. Then said door is suddenly wrenched open and before me stands a huge, huge guy holding a very, very large sizzling frying pan raised up ready to strike. I am suddenly very glad that I am wearing my Official Ranger Coat with the Ranger Crest upon it. All I can think to say is:

"Nice pan."


	3. Nice Pan

Staring at the large man wielding the sizzling object, I brace myself for whatever is about to transpire. Of all the things I expect may happen next, what he does catches me completely off guard.

"How did you know?" the giant man responds as he quickly divests himself of the rapidly cooling frying pan and begins to clean it's former contents off the floor, cursing under his breath. As he is turned away from me a look of complete bewilderment forms on my face. What the heck is that supposed to mean? I'm feeling more green than ever before, completely befuddled. But I'm The Ranger, I can't let him know how inexperienced I am or how I have absolutely no fricken idea what he's talking about. I school my features before he has an opportunity to see how completely clueless I am. He looks up expectantly, his cleanup now finished.

I just shrug knowingly, like this kinda shit happens to me every day.....no big deal. I don't trust my voice not to crack or give me away so I just raise and eyebrow and tilt my head in a 'what's next?' gesture. 

His work complete, Big Guy turns to lead me into the rest of the house. Even after he has reliquished the pan, I have yet to release the hilt of my sword. I follow him through the kitchen into the main room, it is a combination dining room and den. The sitting area is scattered with large and expensive looking furnishings, not overly decorated but well crafted and of the finest materials. Upon these furnishing 3 people lounge: 2 men and 1 woman. They are dressed in leathers, looking like huntsmen. Big guy makes introductions: 

"This is Llyra Kaleva, Antero Rinion, and Jarna Thalion. My name is Levi Algeri." He pauses and looks hard at me when he says his name, like I might know it, or recognize it. I don't but then again I'm horrible with names, so I'm not surprised at my lack of recognition. By the time I leave this lodge I won't remember most of their names either, probably.

"Lilykai Kodel, Ranger. You can call me Ranger or Lily....whatever you want." I say offhandedly. I'm inspecting them, noting where their bows are, the daggers on their hips. No one is currently wearing a sword here but me.

As we shake hands in greeting (causing me to release my hilt) each person looks perplexed, surprised or both and says "How did you know?" By the third round of this question I'm thinking of drawing an arrow on one of them to see if they can say something new or original. But annoying the ranger isn't against the law so I should probably not do that....quite yet. Instead I just look at them as if they are the most boring people on earth. That's the only way I can think to deal with exceedingly rich people who will eventually piss me off......act bored. 

It seems to do the trick as, after an awkward pause, Levi says "We should probably go up and see the Baron". Well, it's official now, royalty.....my day has definitely gone to shit. And if it's the Baron I think it is...the Baron that's in charge of all military branches (essentially my boss) and my uncle's best friend.....oh, this is going to be weird. And uncomfortable. And awkward.

We go past the second floor; which I note is a hallway with 4 doors leading off of it, to the third floor and a single door where Levi knocks. This is obviously the Baron's room. A man I recognize opens the door. He looks perplexed, like he can't quite place me.

"Let me introduce Ranger Lilykai Kodel." Levi says knowingly.The first thing Baron Mordecai says to me is the same exact thing everyone else greeted me with, "How did you know?"

I've finally heard that enough. Losing all sense of decorum I bark out, rather aggressively, "I have no idea what you are talking about but all of you seem to enjoy saying it to me. I do believe an explanation is in order here!" 

He looks a little put off and then introduces himself, "Hello Lily, it's me, Baron Mordecai." I have to admit, he does sarcasm very well. Then he crosses his arms and uses his stature, and position, to intimidate me. Or actually just make me behave, I'm not sure which, probably both.

Instead of apologizing, I sidestep him and enter the room uninvited, inspecting my surroundings. I notice his rumpled appearance, the fact that the chaise near the fireplace has been made into a bed with blankets, and a variety of first aid supplies on some of the tables. He has given up his bed for something or someone.......Just as I register the slender figure in the large four poster bed I realize Levi and the Baron have been speaking to me and are just getting to the part where they're very concerned about the Ranger they found. 

This catches my attention as I know I am the only Ranger in the area for many leagues. I rush towards the figure and see that it is, in fact, Regnar Shomari, a cadet messenger, and he's seriously injured. He has a severe head wound, like it was bashed in hard, and wrapping around his torso that is stained with blood. 

"He's my messenger" I tell them as I inspect Reg's wounds. "Where is his gear, his pack?". 

"This is all we found along with his undisturbed pack. We've been waiting to see... if....when he regains consciousness. We haven't sent anyone for help because, well, we don't know who to trust." Baron Mordecai brings an empty message tube to the bedside, where I'm standing. "So obviously, your appearance surprised us. We thought maybe you expected a message...perhaps you already knew he had been attacked." 

I shake my head 'no' as I inspect the tube, wishing the answer was somehow there. Attacking a Ranger is considered treason to the Realm and punishable by death. It is a high crime because we travel in the wilds alone so attacking us carries a heavy penalty. It must've been a very important message to harm Reg and take on such a risk. My temper rising, I have to take a few deep breaths to calm my emotions so that I may think about my next step. I realize Mordecai and Levi have been standing quietly and patiently waiting for me. Or assessing my reaction.

If I am to figure determine why this happened I need to know what they're doing here. Reg is likely to remain unconscious for awhile so I'll need to piece together clues based on their statements. I retrieve the medical gear from my pack to further treat his injuries, I won't need to use one of my few healing potions, as he is stabilized, and not in immediate risk of dying. I can, however use some of my poultices to ensure no infection sets in and his healing continues. My actions also have the added bonus of aiding me not to feel so helpless.

The Baron explains that he and an entourage come to his Lodge once or twice a year in a hunt for a great While Stag. (my slight eyebrow twitch going unnoticed, I hope) Each hunter I met downstairs represents a wealthy merchant or House and have come with a letter of introduction so they can hunt with him. Apparently there is a prize or prestige or something that comes with killing the stag. I'm not impressed.

"Have you hunted with any of them before?" I ask as I finish re-wrapping Reg's chest in clean dressings.

"Only Antero, he was here last year," the Baron responds as he straightens up the nearby medicines, trying to look busy. "The rest are new, but they did have the proper letters from the correct people they represent."

"What about him." I point unceremoniously at Levi, the frying pan defender.

Baron Mordicai lowers his gaze to me challengingly, "Levi is my man. He has been with me for many years. I trust him, and your Uncle does as well."

It dawns on me then that the stories I have heard of my Uncle Eldiss, The Baron, and their "unnamed friend" ( that they always refer to) is, in fact, Levi. I nod my understanding and the Baron relaxes the steely gaze he has.

"Since you didn't send anyone for help it means you think the attacker is someone here. One of the hunters downstairs attacked Reg and we have no idea who or why." the Baron and Levi nod as I correctly deduce their decision.

This has me worried because while we Rangers are "The Law" out here in Ratik.....we aren't, shall we say, trained as well in investigation as we are in other skills.....like fighting.....and tracking.....and all the things that actually keep you alive at night. In fact, at the Academy "Investigation Skills" was handed off to the oldest...and I mean literally the very, very, very oldest Ranger still active in the corp. Cadets call him ORO for Old Ranger Oberlen (we weren't very creative). He sometimes fell asleep in class....and we would practice our stealthiness to sneak away undetected....and even Fat Claude (yes, we really needed to practice our nicknaming) could stealth past him...and Claude can't stealth past a deaf and blind mule! So yeah, investigation......I think back really hard to something useful and all I can remember is ORO punctuating his endless, winding tales with "TRUST YOUR GUT!"

OK gut, let's figure this out.


	4. The Hunt

While still in his rooms, I ask Baron Mordecai and Levi to describe exactly what happened.

The Baron begins, "Levi was gathering wood for the day when he heard a noise; someone cry out by the creek. He went to check and found the Ranger laying still in the leaves. He blew his horn for us to come"

"Horn?" 

"We all carry horns to blow for emergencies or to announce if someone has bagged the stag"

"Who arrived first?" I ask. 

Levi tells me it was the woman, Jarna. She was followed by Llyra, then the Baron, then Antero.

The Baron begins readying to go out for today's hunting and offers to take me to the site where the attack took place. I suspect that whomever attacked Reg, they did it stealthily. They must've sneaked up on him and knocked him in the back of the head first. Otherwise, he wouldn't have cried out in surprise. If they faced him with the blade that cut his torso he would have been able to scream for help and possibly evade them, so I'm sure that the head wound was first. Maybe, I mean it kinda makes sense, right? It seems that all these hunters are pretty stealthy, so that's really no help in determining who did it though.

As we descend the stairs I see that the other 3 are also ready to go out. I notice Jarna saying something quietly to the Baron. Whatever it is, he waves her away and assures her not to worry. My curiosity is peaked.

Once we are a few paces away from everyone else I ask him, "What did she say?"

"You want to know my personal conversations?" he asks with the quirk of his eyebrow.

"If it is related to the investigation, yes. Otherwise, not interested." I realize I'm being a bit pushy to want to know, but if it is about Reg, shouldn't I be privy? Being the Baron and all, this whole thing feels like a career disaster waiting to happen. 

He smiles then, completely dropping his 'royal' aura and says, "She is concerned with Levi being left alone with Reg, during the day. She's suspicious since he's the one who found Reg. I assured her that I trust Levi completely with his care."

I must admit I was thinking the same thing. In fact, I thought being the first on the scene was supposed to be one of the possible indicators of guilt. Truthfully, though, I just don't have the feeling that he's capable of this, striking a young man with a rock from behind. If I'm going to trust my gut like I'm supposed to, Levi is in the clear. 

I do make a mental note of Jarna's concern and the fact that she and I think alike when it comes to this mystery. It pushes her a bit further down the list of suspects. Her concern over Reg's safety is noted. I decide to first turn my attention to the other men in the hunting party.

Baron Mordecai leads me to an open clearing near a creek. There is some snow on the ground and the leaves have been greatly disturbed in the last couple of days.

Re-creating what happened based on tracks is impossible. I can see that they were all here, everyone's tracks are evident somewhere in this clearing. What I can determine by the location of the assault is that my earlier assessment, that someone was able to sneak up to Reg, was incorrect. It is too open, there is no way the culprit was not seen. Which means that whomever did this is supposed to be here (one of the hosts or guests) and was convincing enough for Reg to let his guard down before they struck. Perhaps I had it all backwards and they moved quickly, the gut strike first, but not enough to kill him so he cried out, and then came the head strike to shut him up and finish the job. Levi, however, came along too quickly and the culprit had to abandon the kill before completion. 

After he shows me the scene and I get an idea for what happened the Baron takes off to find his prey. I closely search the clearing and eventually find a stone that looks like it could've been used in the attack. Turning it over in my hands, scrutinizing the surface, I see there is a patch of blood on it. I wrap the stone up and put it in my pack, I have a plan for it.

Instead of returning straight away to the lodge, I decide to find the other 3 hunters to question. Over the course of the morning I discover that both Jarna and Llyra are new to the hunt. Neither had come to the competition before and didn't know anyone here prior to arrival. Antero is the hunter who competed last year. He arrived last when the emergency horn blew and saw that Levi and Jarna were carrying Reg to the lodge. Hmmm, last. Interesting. Llyra was second to arrive after the horn and saw Levi and Jarna there. He is the one who grabbed Reg's pack and belongings first to determine who he was. Huh, kinda puts him in the clear, I think. But actually they are all pretty straightforward and seem honestly concerned with Reg's health, so I'm kind of in a pickle here. And gut....you're no help at all.

When I decipher all the statements, I could argue that each hunter has signs of guilt and each hunter is clearly innocent. In other words, I have no idea who did it.

As I am tracking back towards the lodge, I decide to move as stealthily as possible and keep an eye out for anyone who might drop their guard when they don't know I'm around. After a mile or so I spy Jarna in a crouched position, drawing a bead on something with an arrow nocked. I watch her holding her position, eyes on something other than me. Suddenly the large white stag springs out of nowhere startling the crap out of me. I notice that Jarna's aim is not on the Stag....I am confused...can she see me? Impossible! I start moving slowly towards her and get an arrow ready, I don't know what's going on...but I feel like I need to be ready to react. 

Keeping my eyes trained on her and her alone, I still can't decipher what her target is. Suddenly the Baron crashes past unexpectedly, right in front of me and I see that Jarna's readied arrow follows his movement....shit! I am up and running towards her silently, I don't know for sure what's going on but his safety is at risk and I can't take a chance so I leap up and shoot her, specifically aiming at her leg, not a killing blow.

I'm thankful I don't aim to kill because just as I let my arrow fly there is another crashing sound from the direction the stag and Mordecai just came. 

A large Snow Lynx explodes out of the brush, going straight for the Baron's path. I am in mid air from my leap towards Jarna and have only a split second to spin and take a shot at the cat. In a heartbeat I aim at the beast's head and let loose.....the arrow flies straight and true sinking into the eye socket; killing it instantly. Jarna's arrow flies wild, thanks to getting shot in the leg, hitting a nearby tree. I continue my descent down the hillside, sliding and crashing towards her, apologizing all the way. She has readied another arrow and it's pointed directly at me.

"I'm so sorry, don't shoot. I'm so sorry, I thought you were shooting at the Baron. Please don't shoot. I'm so sorry." My words run together continually as I make my way to her, hands raised in surrender. Her expression goes from fury, to confusion, to resignation. I supposed I would react the same way if I was in her shoes. I continue to apologize. My embarrassment apparent. 

She is understandably pissed off because one of my arrows is poking out of her thigh, my immediate use of first aid and flustered apologies seems to cool her temper. "I didn't realize you were aiming for the cat, so sorry, I'm so sorry."

Her voice clipped in pain (and probably anger), "You can stop saying that now, it's getting annoying."

Thoroughly embarrassed by what just happened I snap my mouth shut and finish wrapping her wound. Jarna obviously wants to walk back to the lodge alone, but needs my help to make it. Before leaving the area I grab the Lynx carcass to take back. Waste not want not after all.

She carries the cat while I help her walk, silently we traverse the forest to the lodge. 

The Baron and the White Stag are nowhere to be seen.


	5. The Race

The three of us return to the lodge early: me, wounded Jarna, and dead Lynx. Levi doesn't know what to make of it, he huffs about not knowing which one of us to deal with first. I hand the cat to him and assist Jarna to a comfy chair in the sitting area downstairs. 

"Can you do something with that, please?" I ask him. He nods and takes it out the back somewhere.

Dressing Jarna's leg wound, this time using the poultice from my pack, I say "Sorry, you will have a bit of a scar."

"I suppose I should count myself lucky." She retorts. She's still rather pissed and I see the implications are that she will not be able to finish the hunt. It would bother me too if I were in her position. That realization makes me feel all the worse. After I've finished putting my gear away I bring her some wine and prop her leg up. There's little else I can do at the moment to make amends.

Now it's time to enact my brilliant plan to flush out the attacker. I retrieve the wrapped rock from my pack and place it on the main table. The attacker, upon seeing the rock they hammered Reg with front and center on the dinner table may unconsciously react to said weapon and revel themselves. (OK it's not the brightest of plans, but I might trigger some reaction). Seeing as I just shot Jarna while she was protecting the Baron from the Lynx I let her in on my, not quite brilliant but surely unexpected, plan. 

"That is........interesting." She looks at me like I'm crazy. Everyone's a critic.

It will be hours before the others are back from hunting (and for me to spring my "trap") so I decide to go outside under the pretense of scouting around and instead break into the rooms of the guests. Maybe there will be something revealing the identity of the would be killer.

I haven't had an opportunity to use my handy and awesome dwarven collapsible grappling hook yet and now is my chance. I spring it open and hook one of the balconies to the second floor rooms. 

Some part of me feels like this is wrong, like I'm a common burglar. I remind myself that I'm the law, dammit, and if I have to break into someone's room and rifle through....their stuff....and.....well, hell. I'm doing it anyway because I've no other idea how to solve this. I climb the rope into the first room. There is nothing to distinguish who's room this is, I only find extra clothes and arrows, nothing to identify which person has claimed this room as their own.

I slip back out the way I entered and slink around to the next balcony. Like the last one, the grappling hook easily finds purchase and I pull up without a problem. This room is Llyra's. I can tell because there is a letter here from his wife. She's hoping he is the one to bag the Stag as they could use the extra money right now. I feel like a jerk reading his mail, but at least it puts him in the clear. Or does it? Wouldn't this be the perfect plant in case his room was searched, something to throw suspicion away from him? Crap, this is making my head hurt.

I leave and move to the next balcony. Before climbing I creep around the lodge and make sure that nobody is out here observing me. I pause outside the kitchen door and hear Levi puttering around cooking something. It's unlikely that Jarna is sneaking up on me while dragging a wounded leg so I'm pretty sure I'm in the clear.

Back to room #3. Just as before I ready and toss my grappling hook. My overconfidence betrays me and I don't allow enough lead in the rope. The grappling hook stops short and pops straight back at me using the momentum of my throw. Before I can react it smacks me right in the head. Cursing under my breath I walk a few paces to clear my ringing ears. Try again. Success this time. 

This room is different than the others. First, it has more furniture. There is a wardrobe here where the others only had a small dresser. There is also a desk and chair along with the bed, wash basin and stand. At the desk is a book. Flipping through it, I realize it is a ledger of expenses, there are receipts for provisions and a note from Baron Mordecai tucked inside. Ahhhh, this is Levi's room. I leave immediately after realizing this, reminding myself that I am investigating after all, not snooping.

Outside again I move around to the last room, checking once more to make sure I'm not observed. It's starting to feel like I'm pushing my luck. Really focusing this time I am extra careful not to smack myself in the head with the grappling hook. This room, like the earlier ones, is sparse. I note that these spare clothes in the drawers are the size of Antero, not Jarna. So that makes the first room hers. I search this room exactly like I did the others: drawers, under the mattress, under the bed......huh. This is different. I pull out an object tucked under the bed. It is a fireplace ash trap. Retrieving it, I open the lid. There is a corner of unburned parchment inside, a charred edge where the note was destroyed in a fire. I inspect the paper quality it and am not surprised when it turns out to be Ranger message paper. I sit on the floor contemplating my find before tucking the paper in my pocket and returning the way I came in. All signs point to Antero. As I move towards the balcony doors I notice a drop of blood on the floor near the doors. I check to see if it came from me. Nope, nothing on me bleeding. I look for other footprints, nothing. Just a single...small...drop. I leave Antero's room feeling I have more questions than answers, even though it is there that I found a concrete clue.

I return to the main room to wait and watch the expressions of the hunters returning for the day. As they enter one by one I study them closely to see if they react to the weapon rock displayed prominently on the dining table........and nothing. Finally the Baron takes another long, confused look at it and exclaims "Levi, I know there aren't any flowers up here but do we have to decorate the table with rocks!!" I hastily remove it and place it on the hearth. My brilliant idea ends up being pretty embarrassing. Baron Mordecai watches my actions, confused. Levi smirks and stays silent, something I'm more than a little thankful for.

Levi has prepared a marvelous dinner, he is a fabulous cook. I cannot figure out exactly what Levi's role truly is: a manservant, a guard, a cook or a steward. It doesn't really matter right now as he is currently a baker of fresh bread. Bread is one of the things Ranger's do without the most, as having the ingredients isn't practical when you are carrying your whole life on your shoulders. Ranger packs can only hold so much, and flour is a luxury we cannot afford. It occurs to me that the wannabe killer might try to poison the food or drink so I make it a point to only consume anything Jarna drinks or eats as I feel she is not one of my suspects any longer.

As the meal progresses I eat what she eats and drink the wine she chooses while the others have ale. She keeps glancing at me and frowning as she fawns all over Mordecai. That's nothing new. The Baron and my Uncle Eldiss have been bedding women all over Ratik for years. It is widely known. In fact, my mother has warned me away from Baron Mordecai or any other royal for that reason; they are the 'love em and leave em' types she says. The others also seem to notice her flirting if their eyerolls are any indication. I'm starting to wonder if she considers me competition for his affections.....little does she know that is the furthest thing from the truth. Baron Mordecai doesn't appear to acknowledge her advances as he is completely consumed with telling the tale of his chase and near miss of the White Stag today and how close he came to getting his prize.

I interrupt her flirting and his retelling of the stag story with a more serious subject. "Baron Mordecai. Why would anyone want to send an assassin to harm you?"

I think it's a valid question, but by the looks on everyone's face I have performed some dining faux pas. "Hasn't this been an issue for you in the past as well?" I am referring to the notorious assassin The Phoenix; the reputed premier assassin who was killed trying to murder the Baron. It is a story I've heard my uncle tell at dinner after he's enjoyed many glasses of wine.

Baron Mordecai steeples his fingers and looks me directly in the eyes when he answers. "The Phoenix was hired by the spurned wife of a diplomat who I chose not to pursue. That was resolved before you were born." His tone is one that says he doesn't wish to speak of it any more.

I don't pay any attention to that. "Do you think this could be a similar situation? Have you spurned any wives lately?" I really am trying to kill my own career before it starts, aren't I. I'm my own worst enemy.

"No, I don't think that's the case." Silence around the table as the rest watch us back and forth.

Taking a sip of my wine, "So..you're saying spurned wives are off the table. If that's the case, can you think of anyone who might want you dead?" Seriously mouth, shut the fuck up.

Mordecai looks at me somewhere between bemused and murderous. "Ranger Kodel, why don't you regale us with the story of how you came back to the Lodge early today with a dead Snow Lynx and a wounded guest of mine?"

Shit. Can't say I didn't ask for that. I hang my head for a moment, trying to find the right words. "I was sneaking around. Trying to spot something out of the ordinary or suspicious. I spied Jarna in the forest tracking something with her drawn arrow. The stag came crashing through, followed closely by you."... I have a choice to make at this moment....cover my ass or tell the truth. I choose the latter, consequences be damned. "I thought she was aiming at you, but I wasn't sure so I shot her in the leg as I leaped towards her to stop her from firing. It was at that time the Lynx broke cover going after you. I was able to spin and put an arrow through it's eye. It died." 

Total silence at the table. All eyes are on me. The Baron lowers his hands from their earlier position. Antero's mouth is hanging slightly open. Levi is silently snickering. He turns to Jarna and speaks first, "You're lucky to be alive." She seems to be a bit put off by that remark. 

"I have apologized profusely to her," I continue. "I was in error, which thankfully, is why I chose to shoot her leg. I wasn't absolutely sure what the facts were. Appearances can be deceiving." 

"Do you have any new insights into the investigation?" Mordecai asks.

"I have some clues I'm mulling over." I try to sound more confident than I feel right now.

Llyra speaks up, "Are you telling us you spun in mid-air and shot a charging Snow Lynx with one arrow and killed it?" It sounds really badass when he puts it that way. "How did you even make that shot?!"

Grinning, "It was one of those times where your body and your instincts take over. I just reacted, there was no thinking...or aiming really."

The conversation continues around the concept of instincts and hunting. Then moves to various stories we all have to tell regarding our various hunts and experiences. Talk of home and family flows freely. It is a relaxed atmosphere and I catch myself feeling sad that one of these people is not what they seem. I really like them all so much. I can't imagine any of them inflicting the wounds that Reg, just upstairs from this jovial gathering, is recovering from.

The men get very tired suddenly and take their leave to go to bed. Levi, before heading upstairs asks if I will take his room and sleep comfortably. I decline and tell him I would rather stay on the couch, it seems only fair since I'm not a member of the party. The truth is my gut is actually telling me something; and for whatever reason I feel like I should guard the door tonight. 

After everyone is secure upstairs I move my blankets off the couch to a dark corner where I have full view of the stairs and door. Hours later, just as I'm about to give up and fall asleep I hear a ruckus outside: the horses are going crazy! I grab my weapons and tear out the front door. A rider thunders past me heading into the night full speed on horseback. The other horses have been released and are scattering, that was all the commotion. The rest of the party dash downstairs, awakened by the noise. Everyone is present except for Jarna. The bitch! I feel so foolish, as I had trusted her so easily.

"It's Jarna, I'm going after her." is all I say as I run out the door into the darkness with only my weapons, my pack forgotten in the corner where I intended to sleep.

There is something commonly known about Rangers of Ratik. They nicknamed us Striders for a reason. In training we run everyday...we run very far every day. I have run every day....very far, very fast....for years. And we don't jog, or keep a military pace. We RUN. The legend is that we can run as fast as a horse but that is only partially true. We cannot run as fast as a fully sprinting horse, but we can run as fast as a galloping horse......and maintain that pace for days. Three days to be exact. I know this because part of the final Ranger Trials is the endurance run. It is not a timed run in the sense of how fast, but how long, specifically how many days can you keep that pace. For me, that number is three days. 

So I can't run as fast as your horse Jarna, but when you have to stop for him, when you have to rest him....that is when I will have you. All my insecurities about solving the mystery are scattered away, because you're in my wheelhouse now, you're my prey....and my prey has never gotten away. I'm a shitty investigator, but a helluva runner, and a really great shot. 

We run through the night. She doesn't bother hiding the hoof tracks in the snow, but as she makes it further into the forest she does make an attempt. It is a horrible one and doesn't deter me in the least, but I'm happy to see her trying to cover her tracks as it means she's slowing down. By the next afternoon I can see she's abandoned the idea again. It looks like I'm only about 3 hours behind her. At best. And her horse is slowing. After another half day of running it is getting dark again and I can see, over the horizon.....a campfire burning. The searing that was in my lungs has changed to a fire in my belly and I feel a surge of speed. 

I am silently sprinting, nearing her camp. I bring my bow around, nock an arrow and leap out of the darkness into her camp. I let my arrow fly while I am in mid leap. It pierces her gut. She gets off a lucky shot since her bow was in her lap, but I am barely grazed in the shoulder. I don't notice the wound until much later. Skidding to a halt I spin and bring a second arrow up to her face as I return to her camp.

"Who sent you!" I scream at her.

She just smiles as her eyes close and she's dead. 

I search her body for clues, but there is nothing, I mean she is literally carrying nothing on her person; not even coin. It is getting late; the horse is tired as am I. However, I want to return right away. I don't want to stay at her camp, in case there is a rendezvous scheduled. Is that why she smiled? Is help on the way for her? I throw her body and gear over the horse and we start our walk back. I make it a few more hours until late in the night when the moon is high. 

I realize I'm back on the edge of Sun Cow's forest. I am so tired, the adrenaline is gone so I feel more fatigued than I've ever been, both body and spirit. The recently discovered arrow wound in my shoulder is throbbing. I find a good place to stop, tie up the horse....I feed him what I can from the saddlebags she had, some oats and an apple. I have pity for the poor beast and give him all the water. I'll get some at the stream that's ahead of us tomorrow, right now I just need to sleep.


	6. Of Human Nature

I unsaddle and hobble the horse as well as I can. One of my dirty little secrets is that A) I'm a terrible rider and B) don't exactly fear as much as COMPLETELY DISTRUST all horses and C) Horses do, in fact, HATE ME! Perhaps that is in part because of A & B, but the fact remains that I have been bitten or thrown by more horses than I care to count. This horse has done neither, but then again I have not tried to ride it and have stayed well away from it's mouth. So, we'll see.

After tending to the horse I start a small campfire and finally allow myself time to rest and tend my own wounds. Suddenly and silently Suncow comes out of the darkness, seeming to materialize out of thin air across from me in the camp. He moves over to the saddle that lies alonside Jarna's body in a heap on the ground. He unwraps and studies the body, both studying and smelling her. I remain quietly curious about his actions.

"Huuumans are an odd bunch. You insist on killing each other." he says to me as he retreats from her body and settles across from me on the other side of the fire. His tone is less accusatory, merely observant.

"We don't insist on it, sometimes it just happens." I state blandly.

"Oh, so this was an accident?" He doesn't sound sarcastic.

"No, it was on purpose." I sigh and add a few more sticks to the fire. I still haven't warmed up.

"See, that is what I say. Huumans like to kill each other. Why did you want to kill her?"

I never knew my conscience was a satyr.

Unexpectedly, I find myself in a discussion of good and evil in the world and my part in it. "I didn't 'want' to kill her, she refused to surrender. She was hired to kill someone else. That is illegal..." I frown, "....the hiring and the killing..... Both of those things are illegal. I stopped her from completing her task. She was killed in the process." I'm starting to confuse myself. I'm hoping that is the end of it. It is not, he persists.

"So you killed her accidentally because she wouldn't surrender? That is something that happens." He nods in agreement with his own sentiments. 

We could drop it here, but it would be a lie. "No, I killed her on purpose. She ran and I chased her and she fought back. So I killed her."

"Did she complete her task? Is that why you chased her and killed her? She broke your Laws?" 

Momentarily, I feel guilty, like I am the murderer here. Then I picture Reg's still form in the Baron's bed.

"No, she did not complete her task. But she hurt someone gravely, someone I know. And she tried to kill someone else. It is my duty to protect the people of my land. She wanted to do them harm and she would not surrender so I killed her." My tone carries a finality to it. The conversation is over. Suncow's expression is less confusion and more understanding so maybe I made a point, it's hard to tell through my fatigue. 

He starts to play his flute and I am momentarily alarmed before I fall into a deep, deep sleep......

....and awaken with a start. The tales I've heard regarding Satyr's race through my head. Instinctively, I check to make sure I am clothed (yes!). Whew, that's a relief.

I look down and see a freshly killed rabbit and some apples. I feel ashamed for having thought the worst of my forest friend. I eat one apple and give the rest to the horse who actually doesn't try to bite me! This is good. I might even try to ride this horse....maybe, we'll see. I re-start the fire, field dress and cook the rabbit. I don't realize how famished I am until I smell it starting to cook. It's hard not to jerk it off the flames and eat it half raw but I wait. The only sounds I hear are the snapping and pops of the fat sizzling in the open flames.

The forest this morning is peaceful. Suncow does not put in another appearance as I finish my meal, pack up the horse and start moving. Before passing out of the forest I yell back a "Thank You!" in both common and elvish and wish Sun Cow peaceful days. I hear nothing in response, but I don't doubt that he heard me.

The weather is sunny and warm so I decide to run and lead the horse after all. I don't want to push my luck with the beast, nor ride with Jarna's body. I return to the lodge late in the afternoon, I am greeted by a fantastic sight.

Both Levi and Reg meet me as I approach. Reg is looking much better than when last I saw him. For example, he is awake and walking around. Levi tells me they have decided to stay an extra day or two to hunt and I am grateful because I've thought of some steps I'd like to take to ensure the Baron's safety. I check Reg's wounds and he does actually look quite well. Now that I can speak with him he tells me that he was sent especially by the Corps to deliver the message that there was an assassin in the hunting party. (in spite of the fact that we're not supposed to look at the messages we deliver we all do, it's a ranger messenger thing....curiosity can't be helped). 

"The message just said there was an imposter, the body of the real hunter had been found after they departed to the lodge." Reg says. "So I didn't know who it was until...until it was too late. I heard a noise behind me and I turned to see a woman. She stabbed me in the gut before I had a chance to react." Reg looks at his feet sheepishly, as if he was somehow at fault. "I tried to run, and yelled because I was so close, maybe somebody would hear."

I realize he is only alive because Levi was so near. The message didn't even say who the assassin was, but she knew the trip would be cancelled and she would lose her opportunity to remove the Baron. "You did the right thing." I tell him as I awkwardly pat his shoulder. I have no idea how to console somebody. "You did the only thing you could do to warn them. You lived...that is a fight in itself."

Turning to Levi, who is slightly behind Reg. "He's still here because of you. Thank you for going to his aid so quickly." Levi just shrugs and waves us into the kitchen. It smells fantastic in here and I eat anything he's willing to give me. 

The three of us sit in the kitchen, making small talk and eating heartily (Reg and I) while Levi prepares dinner. 

"Do you feel well enough to travel again so soon after recovering? I need you to deliver a message to Griff Garrison for me." I ask Reg.

He practically jumps off his stool in excitement; perhaps he feels the need to prove himself. He insists he can run the distance, but I tell him that since we have an extra horse I want him to take one of those. The sooner he gets to the Garrison the more time the guards have to arrive back here. He nods in agreement and rushes to collect his things. "Don't forget to pack food!" I yell at his retreating figure.

When I look back over at Levi I see him smiling and looking considerably more relaxed. "What?" I ask him as I stuff the last hunk of bread from my plate into my mouth.

He chuckles lightly as he cuts another slice and places it in front of me. "He won't like it, having guards sent up to escort him. But he can't argue with the orders of a Ranger." Now I understand why Levi is slightly more relaxed, he wants the extra guards too.

Smiling, "Oh...I think he has no problem arguing with the orders of a Ranger. Why do you think I'm sending Reg out right away on horseback, before the Baron has time to return today." 

At that Levi throws his head back and really laughs. "I like you!" he declares as he taps the rim of my teacup with his wineglass; an impromptu toast. My smile matches his. In less than a half an hour Reg is on his way to Griff Garrison with a note from me saying an attempt on Baron Mordecai's life has been thwarted but a detail of guards to escort him back to the capital would be appreciated. The message is Levi approved.

Then I get the best news I've had in a long time. 

"The Baron said if you returned while they were out I should ask you if you would like to use the bath in his rooms to clean up. Would you like to have one?" 

I have no idea what the expression on my face looks like...maybe something between surprise and pure joy? Excitement? Whatever the expression is he just waves a hand nonchalantly in my directions and says, "OK..I take that look as a 'yes'. I'll get right on it." He leaves me to the rest of my meal and tea as he prepares the water. I feel a little like a fancy lady right now.

Shortly after I've finished eating Levi lets me know the bath is ready and the water is hot. I go to the side bar in the dining room and pour myself a nice stiff drink. Wine is good, but when I'm ready to wind down a glass of good whiskey is my choice. I take the glass up with me to enjoy while I soak in the tub.

Before the water is completely cold I wash my clothes and hang them by the fireplace to dry. No sense in letting soapy water go to waste. I put on my less dirty replacements and return downstairs with my medicine kit and Jarna's recovered belongings. 

"I need your help," I say to Levi as he turns to see me come down the stairs. He frowns, concerned as he notes my med kit in my hands. "She grazed my shoulder. I washed it really good just now, but I need you to apply some salve and help me wrap it."

He is immediately at my side and has an alarmed look on his face. "How bad?" He reaches for me and I instinctively flinch back.

"Not bad, I just can't do it by myself is all." I show him the wound at the top of my shoulder that extends slightly to the back. He helps me apply the poultice and wrap it without me losing my dignity in the process. Next I begin unpacking Jarna's belongings that I brought back to the lodge to inspect at my leisure. "Let's go through this and see if we can find any clues. She died before I could convince her to talk."

Baron Mordecai and the remaining hunters return just as we're finished unwrapping her things. We find the 'letter of introduction' she, like Antero and Llyra, provided to Mordecai when they met up to travel here. There is a regular set of spare clothes, nothing abnormal about them. Well hidden, in the lining of her pack, we find a nice little set of thieves tools: some lock picks and other small tools I'm not acquainted with. Lastly, there are the arrows. The guys immediately recognize that she has inserted some of theirs into her quiver. Perhaps in an effort to frame one of them for murder. There aren't any written instructions or a contract hidden anywhere in her belongings. There is also not an indication of payment, no coin to speak of. She was too smart to risk either of these things being found in her possession.

The others begin to marvel at my prowess in flushing her out and I keep brushing it off until they finally drop it. No one needs to know how completely inept I was. During this moment Levi takes the opportunity to tell Mordecai that I ordered Reg to the Garrison to send a guard detail for their return. I watch the two men interact. Mordecai gets an annoyed look on his face, Levi cocks his eyebrow and tilts his head in a way that clearly dares the Baron to argue in public. Then Mordecai shrugs and nods, conceding to defeat in the matter.

Yet again Levi has cooked a fantastic dinner. And now that the mystery is solved everyone is relaxed and in fine spirits. The stories begin to flow. The Baron eventually tells a story about picking up barmaids at a tavern....or maybe it was a farmstead and some farmer's daughters.....with his good friend who is a Ranger. According to his tale a Goblin raid happens and they have to fight together to save their damsels in distress, of course while barely dressed. 

Something about this story seems very familiar and I realize that I've heard this exact tale from a different perspective as my Uncle Eldiss 'held court' at his favorite table in the Far and Away (the Ranger bar in Marner). Not surprisingly, Uncle's explanation of the event was much more risque. My brain can't help but interject the uncomfortable details at the appropriate moments of Mordecai's retelling. Luckily my mouth is firmly clamped shut, so nothing slips out. OK, now I know more about Baron Mordecai than a Ranger girl should. Thanks Uncle, I'm going to get you for this. Something on my face must give me away because when I look up at the Baron again he gives me a knowing grin and a wink. That's not creepy at all.


	7. Gifts and Goodbyes

Since Jarna is no longer among us I take her room upstairs for the night. It's nice having a bed. The need for me here seems over so it is time to move on to the next stop. I'll be sleeping outdoors tomorrow night, so I enjoy the bed that much more this evening.

The morning comes too quickly as I wake early, but not before Levi is up. I can smell bacon downstairs. I ready my belongings and prepare for departure right after breakfast, only my second stop and I am already behind schedule. As I'm going downstairs Antero comes out of his room and joins me at breakfast waiting on the table. He tells me he is concerned about not getting the stag this trip. It is his second try and he has failed his sponsor yet again. He is employed as a huntsman and it is quite possible that he will be relieved of his duties when he returns empty handed once more. I think it's a shame as I have observed that he is a good tracker and I assume a pretty good shot to have come this far. He might make a decent Ranger, there is no age limit on applicants and although I am one of the younger ones (at 22) he could still apply and be accepted. He tells me he has a wife and child, and it would be hard to be apart so long. It is true, not many Rangers are married while in service. We are away from home about 9-10 months at a time with 1 month for a rest between. That is hard on loved ones, and makes the Ranger a lonesome figure. Before getting too melancholy about being away from family we hear the clanking of metal from up the stairs.

We turn towards the cacophony and observe Levi descending the stairs in full plate armor carrying a huge battle ax. Now, in regular clothes Levi is a huge sight to behold, but right now he looks like a shiny steel colossus....with a beard. I think back to the man who met me at the back door with a sizzling iron pan and realize that I was probably closer to death than I originally thought. To consider Levi to be harmless would be a dangerous choice. Llyra and Mordecai come down the stairs, also in full armor. I let out a sigh of relief when I realize that they have taken the threat seriously and are not taking any chances on their return trip. If there is a secondary attack planned, the culprit won't be very successful based on what I'm currently seeing. I get the sense that when they want to, these guys mean business.

Mordecai says something quietly to Levi about a gift and me......I am a bit confused. Levi goes to the back room and returns with the Snow Lynx hide. It has been finished into a wrap and is breathtaking. Levi hands it to the Baron who turns to me and presents it for my 'courage and strength' or something..... hell, I can't focus on the words I'm so shocked, and touched, and trying not to cry because Rangers don't cry. He is very kind, and treats it like it is a gift between old friends. But I blow it, as I am wont to do. It is so unexpected I stammer awkwardly, call him Sire and bow as I was taught to do when citizens of the realm are before royalty. 

There it is, he tried to be a friend and I reminded him of our stations. So the formality returns and we are suddenly a world apart. But his kindness and this beautiful wrap will be with me forever. I mutter awkward thank you's and goodbye's to them all. We catch ourselves somewhere between wanting to embrace goodbye like brothers in arms and shaking hands. Finally we: Levi, Antero, Llyra and I, defer to the traditional warriors handshake, grasping forearms.

I tuck the hide safely in my pack. Before I am over the crest of the next hill I turn and wave back at them as they mount their horses. I'm not certain they can see me or are looking, but just the same, I wave goodbye. My next stop is the Artrus compound. It is supposed to be a rather large farmstead co-op in the valley below the Griff Mountains. It supports several families with sheep and goats, growing oats and harvesting apples, pears and cherries in their orchard. Thankfully it is all down hill from here and I feel elated that I will be making good time. After running through the morning, though, I get a rude awakening. After rechecking my map and the landmarks I realize that my map isn't exactly to scale.... it is actually 3 days away to the compound. Ugh. So far behind already. I examine my map more closely with the idea of shaving time even if it takes me through rough terrain and settle on a new course. I'll be leaving the path that runs between Artus and the Hunting Lodge, but it doesn't appear to be too difficult to run through.

I am pretty happy about my choice as I start the next downhill grade through the trees. A few hours later I'm even more thrilled to discover some wild blueberry bushes just dripping with ripe berries. If I had been smarter I would realize that there is something wrong with this picture....blueberries in this climate, this season....but instead I think it's a good opportunity to grab a few wild berries to eat on the run. 

I get a small piece of cloth out of my coat pocket and start filling it with berries. Very quickly I begin to hear tiny voices...  
"She's a thief."  
"And she's so ugly."  
"What's that horrible smell?" (OK, I deserved that one...I am rather sweaty)  
"And look at those ears!" (Hey! That's personal.)  
"Thief!"

I look around and see no one. 

"Ok, OK!" I respond to the thin air. "I'll pay for your berries. How much do you want?" I start looking through my pack for my coin purse. I carry a little money with me for emergencies.

"We don't use money!"  
"What would we do with coins?"  
"She is ugly AND stupid!"  
The arrogant and invisible voices chime in together on the last insult. I've pretty much had enough.

"Fine, keep your damn berries" and pour them out on the ground.

"What a waste!"  
"A thief and wasteful!"  
"And she's dirty and smelly" the voices get more shrill (if that's possible).  
They are clearly enraged.

I turn to leave and it feels like the forest begins to close in around me and the trees become a solid mass. I am really on edge now and those creepy little shrill voice won't shut the hell up. Suddenly I see the culprits, dozens of pixies surround me like giant screaming butterflies. I have read about Pixies and studied them in class at the Academy, but this is my first actual "meeting". And it's not going well. I know that they are too small and fast to kill with an arrow and exceptionally magical. So I don't make a move towards my weapons, just wait quietly to see what happens next. 

Their voices change into a harmony and they sing. It doesn't, however, sound like a nice song. I feel as though I am engulfed with the music and begin to join their song and dance against my will. Now I can sing....passably, maybe...on a good day. I can dance, my parents made sure my brother and I were adept on our feet and ready for the harvest parties in the valley. But this....this...is a god awful bawdy song and dance that feels and sounds ridiculous. They must be channeling their voices or something because the lyrics I'm singing are some of the most vulgar limericks I've ever heard (and I hope that I can remember them later). Suddenly, the pace starts to increase, and increase, and increase. I can't keep up. I'm like a rag doll. And then I pass out.

I awaken in a tree. 

I'm upside down. I am naked, but thankfully.... alone. All of my gear is spread out beneath me, everywhere. I climb down and by the sunlight realize it's the following morning. I'm freezing. I dress quickly and pack everything up. It is all here, I'm pretty sure. I'm even more filthy and sweaty and very much sore but I want to get far away from this place and intend to travel well into the night tonight.

As I'm leaving the grove I hear tiny little sniggers. I want to say something in rebuttal but I know better. One thing's for sure. Pixies are assholes.


	8. Here there be Monsters

I keep running well into the night, wanting to get some distance between myself and those little jerks and also make up for all my lost time. 

There is a treefall ahead of me that will serve as a good campsite. It is too late and I'm too tired to make a fire and have a proper meal. The Pixies have me rattled a bit and I don't feel like climbing up high tonight, I'd rather hunker against these fallen trees. After eating oatcake rations and drinking some water, I wish I'd thought to buy a flask before leaving Marner. A slug of something strong would be nice right now. I set up my alarm snare in hopes that if anything tries to sneak up on me while I'm on the ground there will be a bit of time to react. Luckily, nothing happens in the night. As soon as the sun starts to rise I do too; hopefully I'll arrive at Artus compound near dark. It's getting cooler, but no more snow since that first blizzard. That's something good, at least.

My timing is as expected and the sun is setting as I near the farm. According to the landmarks on my map it should be about a half an hour away. Ranger maps are remarkably accurate, as far as any maps of Ratik are concerned, but even so; distances can be tricky. I am approaching the compound through the orchards to the west. I'm on a slight ridge so I can see the dim light of torches below me from here. Pausing to observe the layout I note that there is a log palisade wall around the exterior of the compound and a single gate leading in and out of it. That gate is on the opposite side of the walls from my location; it is standing open. Suddenly things before me fully register: 

The "torch lights" are odd glowing fires in the wrong locations of the compound....the fires are in some of the buildings. Some of the buildings are on fire! 

There is yelling and screaming (it is very faint from my position) and many figures moving rapidly around the yards inside the compound. The livestock is in distress.

There is a small figure silhouetted in the dark several feet in front of me among the trees. 

I freeze, wondering if this is a goblin before me.....it's the right size, maybe a little small....Slowly stalking closer I realize that this is a small human boy.....maybe 4 years old. He hasn't noticed me yet, he is facing away from me and fixated on the farm below. Without making a sound I move directly behind him and lean down to his ear, poised to throw my hand over his mouth if he starts to scream. We don't want to give our position away.

"What is happening?" whispered into his ear. I expect him to jump or startle, but he does neither. It's possible he might be in shock. Just as quietly as I ask, he answers.

"Monsters." he whispers back to me.

"What is your name?" I need to make a decision.

"Whipper"

The sounds of fighting and some occasional screams are getting louder; piercing the silence where we stand... watching. I need to get down there quick, but feel like I can't just leave this kid hanging out in the orchard, in the dark, unprotected. Who knows which directions the "monsters" will go when they depart (when I run them off). But I can't take him with me into danger either.

I crouch down in front of him. 

"Whipper, I'm the Ranger. I have to go to the compound and fight."  
He nods in the affirmative.

"I can't take you with me, it's not safe."  
He moves towards me and holds the front of my coat in little hands, if it's even possible his eyes just got bigger.

"I'm going to put you up in a tree for safety and I need you to be really brave and really quiet until I come back to get you."  
His eyes move up and down as he nods. 

Placing him high in the crook of the nearest tree I begin to turn away and see a shudder flow through him. I feel bad about abandoning him here in the dark, but leaving a torch or a weapon......not happening. He's a four year old kid.

I take out my hatchet and hold it up to him:  
"For protection"

He studies it before grabbing the handle without making a sound. Holding it in both hands in front of him he keeps the edge pointed out. Seeing him holding my hatchet, nestled in a tree, makes him seem so very small and vulnerable. At that very moment he sits up a little straighter, a little braver, and he's ready. This is the best I can do here.

Down to business.

Making my way down the hill towards the back of the compound, stealth is my advantage and I arrive to the wall unnoticed. Being able to see in the dark is a boon. During my approach, I'm considering whether I should scale the back wall or run to the front gate when the sounds of fighting and a shrill scream erupt near my location on the other side of the wall.

Moving towards the sound of the scream, I quietly toss my grappling hook. The hook finds purchase on my first throw. It is a quick climb and before I know it I've landed on the roof of a small house inside the walls. 

Now that I'm within the compound I see that there are 15 to 20 goblins running rampant through the area. They carry wooden clubs and torches that they are using to set fires. The farmers are trying to fight them off with tools, the women and children are trying to make their way to the main house. It's total chaos. Once again the shrill scream of a small child comes from within the building I'm standing on; shaking me from my contemplation. Swinging down by the rope to the open doorway, I spot three Gobbos menacing a mother and daughter. The mother is madly swinging an iron frying pan to keep them at bay. They dodge it and try to dart in and grab her, or the girl, or both. All of their attention is forward so I easily slice through two of them with my sword, cutting them in half. The third, still looking at the shrieking girl just out of his grasp, doesn't register my presence until my longsword blade is protruding from his chest. 

Wow, that feels....rather heroic....  
I look at the mother as she holds the pan up and takes a deep breath. Her daughter clutches her skirts, arms locked around her mother. Both have a look of terror on their faces. My killing of the goblins hasn't sunk in yet.

I can't believe I'm saying this again........  
"Nice Pan"


	9. Pan-deminc

"Nice pan"

The mother doesn't skip a beat and thrusts the iron fryer into my free hand. Never was one much for dual wielding.....but, OK. 

I tear out from the back of the compound towards the sounds of screams. There are goblins and farmhands everywhere. Since I didn't come in from the front, most are surprised to see me...goblin and human alike. I cut down two more Gobbos terrorizing some women and children making their way to the main house. Clearly the farmers have a plan to run there for safety during events such as this. Good, this means I don't need to worry about covering too much ground to keep everyone safe. I take in the scene, noting that not one of the men fighting the goblin raiders near me has a true weapon, it's all shovels and pitchforks. 

"Hey!" I yell at the man nearest me. He looks absolutely stunned to suddenly find a Ranger in his midst. "Try this!" I toss him the frying pan. He looks at it quizzically so I yell again, "Whack 'em!" He tests the weight, grins and nods. I watch him raise it to strike as he runs to help his friends. Now I can use my longsword with both hands for additional destruction. I feel a predatory grin spread across my face as I approach a group of three goblins trying to encircle a young boy with a garden hoe.

"Put out the fires. Leave them to me." I say to the kid as the last Gobbo falls dead between us. 

Nearby there is another clutch of farm hands outnumbered by a group of raiders. "Get those fires under control, I got this!" I yell at the men as I approach. The gibbering goblins were looking pleased with the situation until the farmers vacate the area, leaving me behind. The goblins pause, gesture towards each other in "you go first" movements until one finally bucks up and rushes in my direction. I step into him and duck low, slashing upwards as I move past him. I don't even have to look, I feel my sword bite in and slice through his upper body. I pivot my stance, sliding my blade clear and thrusting it into the second one. The third feints in my direction and then decides it's time to run. Unfortunately, he turns and barges straight into the two behind him, falling on his ass. The larger of the two brandishes his warclub at me. I assume he's trying to intimidate me, it doesn't work. I rush into the group, seperating the arm holding the weapon from it's owner and then cleaning up the rest while he stands stunned at the sight. I leave him standing there to bleed out, moving towards the screams near the gate.

Drawing out my bow, arrows are released one after the other and it's all over for the goblins at the front of the compound illuminated by the house fires. They fall with arrows embedded deep in their necks and heads.

Another set of raiders are trying to carry away livestock and a couple of the farm kids, that's where most of the screams are coming from. It is too risky to take a shot across the yard so I put away my bow as I run towards the gate, hoping to cut them off. Back to the sword, I slice my way through the creatures and make it to the exit, leaving goblin parts here and there. Suddenly there is a stabbing pain in the center of my back. I spin quickly and the nearest goblin is 10 feet away, menacing a younger farm hand....who is holding a sling. I look down, sure enough...there is a rock, the perfect size for a sling. I momentarily consider throwing it back at him but decide it's best not to be so petty in the middle of a skirmish.

The distraction gives me a chance to assess the battle before me. All of the raiders are on foot and carrying big clubs or nothing at all. No armor to speak of and no real leadership it seems. I choose another group of monsters taking out two more. It looks like their plan was to simply overrun the farmers with sheer numbers. Finally I see a farmhand with a long sword, the only weapon besides my own in sight. (I'm not counting the sling) He seems to know how to use it. He didn't even stab me by accident! He cuts down a couple near him and looks up at me, we share a quick nod to each other, team up, and start to clean out the remnants of this attack.

I hear the sounds of bleating and hooves and turn to see two goblins riding sheep emerge from the dark shadows of a stable. Sheathing my sword, I draw out my bow once more to take these guys out without breaking more of a sweat. Don't have to worry about hitting any farmers since they're all behind me. Although......where's that kid with the sling..........maybe he can get in the way...

The goblins are just at the front gate, I see them cackle at each other, assuming they're home free.  
Guess again, fellas.  
Two shots, two kills.

Out of the corner of my eye, I notice a third one getting away on the back of a goat. Easy target......I pull back for another shot......SNAP!! The bowstring breaks. Fuckity fuck fuck. Reaching to my waist to grab my hatchet and throw at the bastard.....I remember a four year old kid sitting in a tree with it. Shit!

The handful on foot between me and the gate are easy fodder, I cut them down like wheat in a field as I sprint after the last one riding the goat out the door. I can outrun a horse......catching a sheep, a goat....no problem. He is easily slain outside the front gate within view of the rest of the farmers and......I keep on running, around the side, around the back....into the dark. To the orchards. I pray Whipper is still there...that he's OK. My heart is pounding with worry.

I can quickly tell by the lack of tracks that none of the goblins went this way. This calms my nerves considerably, my heart rate begins to decrease substantially. I've slowed to a walk by the time I reach the orchard edge, catching my breath.

There is a glint of metal from the moonlight and I spot my hatchet, in the tree, with really big eyes peering over it.

"It's me Whipper, everything's OK now." My voice is incredibly loud in the newly broken silence.

"No more monsters?" he peeps.

"Nope, they're all dead" (for a second I worry my bluntness will scare him more) 

A huge smile appears on his face (OK, not scared of that after all)

"Hatchet." I hold out my hand towards him.

"Ride." He says as he puts it into my palm.

"Get on" as I turn my back to him.

Less than 10 minutes later I walk leisurely into the compound with Whipper on my back. As I approach the outside of the gate 2 men look up from dragging goblin bodies into a bonfire and smile broadly while yelling out to a third one. "Algen! Algen! He's here...with the Ranger." 

A third man comes out of the darkness. By the look of relief on his face I would bet he was looking for this little guy. And based on his features I would say this was Whipper's dad.

They all rush towards me smiling and laughing, but before I can enjoy the greeting too much and start to feel, oh what's it called....appreciated; they push past me to pull Whipper off my back and swing him around. The kid is smiling from ear to ear. I step back and watch 'Algen' hug his son so hard I think I might have to rescue him again. Watching the men, this is all the thanks I need. I turn away to check on the rest of the people.

"Hey Ranger", a disembodied voice from somewhere in the darkness calls. "The Artus's want to see you, they're at the main house"

"Your welcome" I can't help it, I'm a bit of a smartass. Passing the kid with the sling standing there watching, I stop suddenly. He looks worried, he knows what happened during the battle. I jerk the sling out of his hand and walk away with it.

When I'm near the steps leading to the door of the main building, I spot the lone fighter in the compound helping to clean up the goblin parts strewn around. He's a big guy, much older than most of the hands here I've seen so far. I learned tonight that he really knows how to use that sword, but it seems to not be in the best of shape....not really clean or honed. I move towards him to thank him for the help but......

I'm suddenly faced with two very large and intensely jovial people standing right in front of me. They introduce themselves as Rallo and Bathilda Artus....and then they proceed to bombard me with introductions for about a dozen people standing around us on the porch.....all staring and smiling. There is literally no way I'm ever going to remember this information. After jumping a wall, stopping a goblin raid, running to get Whipper and carrying him back my brain is kinda....spent.

Oh, they're still talking. More names. OK, now the people are telling me what they do around here....lot's of handshaking. Oh, so your sister is...what? Why is this woman telling me about her foot. Somebody just handed me a baby. OK, somebody else just took it back. That's nice. More names. More handshakes.

I just figured out that killing goblins is easier than learning people's names, and talking to them. Huh, good to know....I wonder if I pretended to faint it would make them all stop.


	10. Bear Necessities

As I'm being bombarded, although rather respectfully, with the names and faces of those surrounding me I ask if anyone was injured. Thankfully there are injured (yes, yes, I'm a horrible person) and I have a reason to excuse myself from this press of people and try to attend the wounded. All the thank you’s were starting to make me uncomfortable, and why do you all keep trying to touch me? 

Someone, Bella, Bertha...what was her name...Bathilda! leads me to where some of the wounded are. Thankfully the Goblins didn’t have any blades so no fatal injuries, but a lot bashing ones. They’ve gathered the wounded on the ground floor of the building, the 'main house' they call it. It is obvious they all take communal meals here. I move towards the back where the injured ones are resting and see Whipper’s dad. They brought him in after finding the kid, who remains stuck to his dad's side. Man, that guy is easy on the eyes. I mean, he’s a bit older than me but damn, he’s cute. OK, Lily...focus on the task at hand. His leg has been bashed and has a large abrasion. I check carefully and see that it is badly bruised but not broken (lucky).

I get out my tins of salve and smear some in the wound. “Sorry Algen (I remembered his name!) I gotta make sure this doesn’t get infected.” As I’m working to clean and wrap his leg he explains that he and Whipper were just bringing in the sheep when the Goblins fell upon them.

“I just told Whip to run and he sure did- just took off out the gate and up the hill. Scared me to death, I can’t thank you enough for finding him” I can tell he's trying to distract himself from the pain as I treat his injury.

“More like he found me” I say and grin. I glance at him in that moment and see his eyes flick away. Wait...was that a moment? Ummmm, what about Whipper’s mom?

“I’m sure his mother will be glad to see him too” I fish a bit for more information.

“We lost Whipper’s mom awhile ago” he says softly and I feel like a complete heel. “That’s why I’m so glad I didn’t lose little Whipper tonight” and I get that shy smile again. Yep, definitely a moment. 

I hear someone else moan in pain and excuse myself to help Bathilda with the next person. Some folks got hurt just running into things as they fled and some got swatting a bit by the Gob’s clubs and I SWEAR that some of these injuries are from that damn kid with the sling...who is remarkably absent currently. My tins are mostly empty by the time I get a look at my own wounds. I guess I did take a few hits tonight, too busy to really notice them before. Bathilda helps patch me up and orders me to get some rest while she attends to the remaining injured. She’s actually a first rate healer, between the two of us everyone is wrapped up (literally) pretty quickly. I will need to forage a bit and replenish my stocks. Won’t do me any good to leave here without my first aid kit ready for more.

They offer me someone’s room upstairs for tonight but I refuse. "This could be one small part of a larger group. When they don't return more could be sent out to see what happened. I need to be ready for that, just in case."

Rollo Artus, the founder of this co-op, nods appreciatively, "I hadn't thought of that Ranger. It's a good point." Turning to one of the men near him, "Get a handful of men together to guard the gate tonight."

"Do you guys have anything to warn the compound? Horns or something?" my thoughts return to Baron Mordecai's hunting horns and how helpful they were.

"No, ma'am...we don't have anything like that." one of the men admits sheepishly.

I have to bite back a sarcastic retort; first of all for being called ma'am and secondly for their lack of security. But I'm trying to learn to be more diplomatic, as hard as that is sometimes. "How about you grab a couple of pots and pans and bang 'em together really hard if another raiding party shows up?" I didn't mean for it to sound so mean...but my fatigue is bleeding through my voice. The poor man flinches at my retort.

Rollo interjects, softening my words, "That's not a bad idea. Jeff, grab a couple of pans from the kitchen to take out with you. Be sure to set up shifts so the guards stay fresh through the night." 

"Thanks, I didn't mean to be so....." I mutter towards Rollo. 

He just nods and gives me a look of understanding. "It's OK, you look like you could use some rest yourself. Why don't you set up near the fireplace." 

I grab my gear and make my “bed” by the fire which is basically me collapsing in a heap and falling fast asleep.

That night I have a weird dream about one of the men I saw here. No, not THAT kind of a dream. A dream where I knew one of them...the sword guy. Let’s see, names, names, names....Phaellon was his name. It’s like I’ve met him before, or know him somehow, but it just won’t click into place. In the dream I keep chasing after him to find out who he is, but he keeps slipping out of my grasp. Very Odd.

As I awaken I hear pots and pans clanging around. Only moments before I leap out from under the blanket....blanket.... where did that come from...with my sword ready do I realize that someone is making food and it's not the alarm. Breakfast.....fantastic smelling breakfast. Rising up from the floor, I realize that I am really, really sore. And it’s not all from sleeping on the hardwoods. Upon further inspection (as much as I can do in the common room) I realize that I am covered, and I mean covered in bruises. Those little Gobs might be easy to kill, but they can dish out a bit of pain as well. I need to improve my defenses...maybe learn to dodge or something.

I approach the dining table and recognize the guards from the night before. The look on my face must betray my disapproval because one of them quickly states “Don’t worry, we were relieved by another four this morning!” I nod and grin as I turn away to fix a plate of breakfast.

Ahhhh, breakfast. It is nice to have a decent meal. Don’t get me wrong, I can cook. But a Ranger, on top of all the gear we carry, can’t actually take along all the things for a good breakfast: no eggs, no milk, no bacon, pancakes, toast.....egg toast with maple syrup (my favorite). So yeah, I put a good size portion of everything on my plate. But maybe I went a little overboard considering the glances I’m getting as I carry my breakfast to the table. 'Hey people, it’s been like 16 hours since I had anything to eat seeing as I was saving your asses instead of having dinner'. I remember not to say this out loud, but maybe my expression gives it away as everyone suddenly finds something else to stare at.

As I eat my delicious meal (with coffee!!) I puzzle over the goblin raid last night. With the early snow it stands to reason it was a simple raid for food. But what if it is the beginning of a larger incursion. It has yet to be a generation since the Horde Wars were won and we are taught in both the Ranger Corps and the regular military that we have to be vigilant and ready for another invasion. This farm is the closest to the Griff Mountain border. It is known that the monster clans still flourish on the other side of the mountains. If they were to re-group and begin regular attacks this would be a possible starting point. I have to track the raiders and see where they came from.

As if he is reading my thoughts Rollo sits down across from me and says “So what is your plan?”

“I need to track the Goblins and see where they came from. If they were one of many raiding parties or the start of something more. I want to make sure you guys aren’t going to get any more company”

“Sounds good, do you want me to send some men with you? I have a few to spare” 

I appreciate his offer but...”no, I move faster alone and feel better with you having them all here.”

He nods as if he expected that reply “Our blacksmith is working on something to use as an alarm, and we’ll have the gates closed and guarded for the time being”

“Good, I’ll let them know what time I might be returning when I head out. If I’m not back by nightfall then I’m probably dead.” I glibly reply. Those words may come back to haunt me.

I easily find the tracks leading from the mountains to the farm, Goblins aren’t the sharpest tacks in the box so they didn't even try to hide their approach. I follow their path and it leads pretty much due west, straight into the mountains. More and more it appears to be just a raiding party for provisions, they teach us in the Academy this is a common occurrence when close to the border. But if it’s not....if this is the beginning of a larger push into Ratik...well, these people are the front lines and would be the first killed. It is that thought, the image of their bodies amid burning buildings that has me press on further and further. Finally I am beyond the mountain foothills and looking up a steep pass. There has been no indication of other camps or groups of the monster clans converging here. I am fairly confident that indeed it was just a food raid.

And now I realize that I have pushed so far that I will be lucky to return before nightfall. I imagine the worry on Rollo and Bathilda's faces when it grows dark and I’ve not yet turned up. They will think I have fallen in battle, and if I have fallen their people are next in line. I'm ashamed to have caused undue worry on their part. I turn back towards the compound and begin to run full speed back the way I came. There was nothing of note on the route so my pace can be swift and I will make it back easily for dinner.

My thoughts are literally about my next meal and what it might be as I race over a small hillock. Which is why I did not hear the grunts of the large grizzly bear that rears up right before me until it's too late.

Running full speed, I will not be able to stop in time, nor do I have time to ready an arrow or draw my sword......a crazy, fleeting thought occurs to me. This bear is about 10’ tall, and I am around half that, at my rate of speed and going downhill.....I could slide under and between it’s legs......

For the record, there is something that should be known: it is never, never, NEVER a good idea to try to slide beneath a grizzly bear who is already prepared to strike. Don’t mistake me, I was able to somewhat accomplish the maneuver. I threw my feet out first and began to slide through the dirt. And he, in all his bear wisdom, simply bent low and raked his massive, dagger sharp claws across the front of me as I slid. I felt them cut through the leather of my coat, the steel of my chain shirt and finally through the flesh of my chest with a burning like nothing I’ve known before. Instinctively, I roll up and draw my sword as I take a position on his left. I remember how my friends in the academy teased me relentlessly about practicing too much with the sword “A Ranger only needs a bow!” Wheir would say. Thank the gods I never listened to him. 

Before Mr. Bear can turn for another swing at me I get a good slash to his side. I spin around while moving behind him and stab deep into his back and bring my blade up. He turns to face me and takes another swipe but I am able to duck it. His second swat hits me on the shoulder, but it causes no real bad damage, not compared to my bleeding chest wound. His twisting to reach me provides the opportunity to cut deep across his midsection and as he attempts to pull back it helps my blade to bite that much deeper into his gut. 

I stagger back away from those fearsome claws and snarling maw, barely dodging his snapping jaws as he thrusts his giant head towards my face. He hunches over as his intestines fall to the ground and I think it’s over until he rears again with a ferocity that surprises me and I realize that I did not lie to Rollo Artus; I am going to die here. The burning pain in my chest has weakened me enough that I can barely keep my footing, my sword tip keeps dipping down as my strength is depleted. Another strike from this bear and I am done. 

Then, as suddenly as he reared up, he collapses in a heap in front of me. I fall hard on my rump in the dirt and scream as loud as I can. It is a scream of fear, fury, pain, and most of all....I’m alive, alive, ALIVE!


	11. Return to Artus

There is a lot of blood. 

I can’t honestly tell where the bear’s blood stops and mine starts. This is bad, my chest is torn to the bone in some places. The light is dwindling, getting back before nightfall is the least of my worries now....getting back at all is paramount. Luckily I have my pack and what's left of my first aid gear. 

I tear apart my spare tunic into strips, apply healing balm as best as I can without passing out from pain, and wrap my chest tightly. I drink water and get out some willow bark to chew, I need to start back to the farmstead. But....the bear, it’s an early winter....food will be scarce......I sit and contemplate my choices. Studying the forest around me, I spy a newly fallen tree. With effort I get up and go to the tree and check out the bark. Hmmm, looks like I can cut away a pretty solid chunk in one piece...and with snow on the ground......it’s worth a try.

Almost an hour later I have fabricated a half assed looking sled, barely more than a skid, out of the bark slab and my rope. Thankfully the recent blizzard left enough snow on the ground that I can slide it across the surface, otherwise there is no way I could achieve this. I gut the damn grizzly, well...finish gutting it. Do pretty much everything I can to lighten the load. I have had to redress my wounds once again before I’m ready to move. I think I'll make it back to Artus as long as I don't have to take big breaths or move too quickly. It’s already dark so there’s no rush anymore. The bleeding has slowed, not completely stopped yet.

I make two long rope loops that attach to the sled and thread them around my arms/shoulders. The first time I’m facing forward and when I pull it feels like my chest is coming apart. The flare of pain is excruciating, sending me to my knees. This won’t work. Letting my mind clear I study the problem. If I have to I’ll just leave the bear meat here for the wolves, but it would be a shame. 

My thoughts collected, I decide to try something different as a last resort. Turning to face the makeshift sled, I wrap the rope loops around my forearms and slowly start to walk backwards….instead of the weight of the bear (and sled) pulling across my chest I am able to keep the tension on my arms alone. Good, we’re moving, this might actually work. Once I get going the pulling isn’t so bad, and after we start to descend the hill the sled picks up a little speed. At this point I can turn and steer it without ripping my chest apart or tiring too much. Luckily I can see in the dark, being half elf does have its advantages sometimes. 

Hours pass.....all I know is pain and the swooshing sound of the sled gliding over the snow. Just as I’m starting to falter from the day’s exertion and my wounds, I see light in the distance. Hope helps to urge me on further, but the land has evened out and I've lost momentum. I’m having to turn back around and pull again. After another 25 feet or so I’m feeling that burning pain across my torn skin and the weakness of blood loss. If I can see their lights, I’m not that far from the compound. Dropping the rope loops, I leave the carcass and trudge towards the gate. In the circle of light I see three men standing around, one with a sword. I try to call out a greeting, but barely a sound escapes my throat. 

They hold the lantern out and cry "Halt!" I hold up my hand to wave, then everything seems to go dark and I start sinking to the ground. 

"Get the bear, " I mutter as the earth sways beneath me. "on sled....." I clarify, hoping they don't think I'm being chased and led the beast straight to them.

Consciousness returns at the main house when they are carrying me inside. Rollo Artus is there. I’m barely able to tell him there is no more danger from goblins. “But what did this?” he asks worriedly while he gives me a once over. 

“Bear” I respond. 

“And she brought it back!!” someone says from behind me. Good, they got the message. I can actually hear the shit eating grin in their voice. 

Bathilda appears from somewhere and leads whomever is supporting me; I’m practically being dragged, upstairs to a room. She bids them to leave while she inspects my wounds. The blood has clotted and dried into the cloth. She apologizes at least 50 times before I pass out again from the pain. 

\--------------------

The light from the window is bright. It must be late, yet I still have that groggy feeling of not getting enough rest. I look down towards my feet hanging off the bed. Either this is a child's bed or I’m now a giant. Wooden toys and blocks scattered on floor. Not a giant. Feel like there’s a weight on my chest but the burning sensation has now turned numb. Water! Someone left me a cup. I’m wearing someone else’s shirt; it swallows me. My boots are gone, but my pack is here. No pants. That’s concerning. I see all my ointment tins sitting on a dresser, emptied. My Ranger Coat is gone. My chainmail shirt is thrown over the back of a chair. It looks like it has been chewed up by a giant metal eating dog. Some of the links are just.....gone. There are huge patches of nothing where mail should be. I gather it up, remember to put on pants and head downstairs.

Rollo and Bathilda are at a table talking as I descend into the dining room. Once Bathilda sees me on the stairs she immediately jumps up, waves in my direction, and rushes towards the kitchen. I sit down carefully across from Rollo, and as if from thin air, a plate of food and hot tea appear in front of me; along with Bathilda wearing a huge smile. I feel rather rotten for being short with them both after the battle. I must learn patience, these are good people; they are ‘of Ratik’, as my parents would say. They treat their farm hands more like family than help, and they treat me the same….like family.

"Sennewig, our blacksmith, is working on an alarm system like you asked about." Rollo tells me with a bit of pride in his voice.

I nod as I shovel another forkful of breakfast into my mouth. Swallowing almost too quickly, “Do you think he can do something to repair this?" I indicate the disaster that is my chain shirt resting on the bench beside me.

Rollo makes a skeptical face, "I'm not sure how good it will be, Senn's better with farming tools than something as complicated as your armor." he shrugs and takes a sip of his coffee, "But he can try, it might be better than it is now. It might take him awhile though." I get the impression that Bathilda filled him in on the damage she observed when treating me.

"I was thinking I'd need to stay around a couple of days to heal anyway, replenish my tins and write some of my report for the Corps. If you don't mind, that is.” I watch them over my teacup, gauging their reaction

Bathilda looks openly relieved. I get the impression she was gearing up to try to convince me to stay. "Of course you can stay!" she interrupts before Rollo can get a word out, he just grins at her enthusiasm. "and we're working on sewing up your coat, I hope you don't mind about that, and some of the girls are mending your clothes as much as possible. We had to burn your shirt, and we need to get more food in you, you're too thin……” She bustles away towards the kitchen like a tornado without waiting for an answer or response at all.

Rollo and I lock eyes and break into laughter. "Well, you just made her day..." he mutters. He glances up to see her coming back and hurriedly gathers his coat, "I better get to work. Good luck Ranger...."

Bathilda is carrying a tray with fresh baked bread and a variety of smoked meats. I'm even spying some apples, what a treat…..that’s right, they have an orchard here. She sits across from me and makes sure I eat plenty more as she knits a sock and tells me all the gossip of the compound. Now I know why Rollo made a quick exit. 

As Bathilda entertains me with rumors and innuendo, I spy the children of the compound “in school” at the far end of the room. I am proving to be too much of a distraction it seems, as the teacher is constantly reminding them to face her. I glance over to see little Whipper who won’t stop staring. I point directly at him and swivel my finger in a “turn around” motion while affixing a firm scowl on my face. He grins widely and waves at me. Little punk. Now the teacher is giving me the stink eye.

"Looks like it's time for me to take care of this so the kids will stop staring." I interrupt Bathilda. Slinging my torn armor over my arm I begin to stack my empty dishes.

She looks behind her to see many sets of eyes on us both. “Yes, I suppose so. You are a bit of a distraction.” Her voice betrays the disappointment of losing her audience.

To cheer her up, “You can finish filling me in at dinner.” I volunteer.

“Yes! I’ll make sure we sit together.” She visibly perks up at the thought.

——————————————-

Leaving the main house, the cold really bites as I make my way towards the blacksmith’s hut and once again I miss my coat. The sounds of hammering and the belching black smoke from twin chimney’s show me the way to the blacksmith’s shop.

Algen, Whipper’s dad, is in the yard and I decide to alter my course to stop and talk a bit….so that I can ummmm, check on his wounds…..yes, that’s it. Entirely a professional call. My stride picks up a pace when I think of having the opportunity to speak with him again.

“Hey Algen!” I call as I approach. 

“Ranger….” He frowns and watches me, guarded.

“Just wanted to see how you’re doing? Leg feeling better?”

He shifts his weight on it a bit. “Yep, it’s holding up well.” He offers nothing else to the conversation. The silence is awkward.

“I saw Whipper in school, he’s looking pretty normal. Guess he’s not traumatized or anything.” I’m beginning to wish I hadn’t started this exchange, I was obviously mistaken about any spark between us before.

“Yeah, Whipper’s in school now….” He looks off toward the stables, like he wishes he was somewhere else.

“Yeah, I know. I just said it.” My tone has turned harsh from embarrassment.

“Oh, yeah, right. I guess I should be getting back to the herd. Make sure-“

‘Right. I’ll see you around.” I interrupt and finish the conversation curtly. What a disaster that was. Without another word, I make my way to the blacksmith's shop, who is thankfully not anywhere near the stables.

Sennewig is busy and doesn’t hear or see me approach until I am right in front of him. I see a weird collection of farm implements, pots and pans and assorted metal items in a pile on his workbench.

He proudly explains, “I’m making our alarm system.” 

He motions over his shoulder and I see a stack of large triangles like the one Gracie always rings to call us in from the fields at home for mealtime.

“I’m gonna put one of these in the orchard, at the edge of the grazing field, at the gate and on every side of the compound. If anything comes over the walls, no matter where it is, we can warn each other!”

The pride in his voice and the warmth in his expression help dismiss my embarrassment regarding Algen. I exile that encounter from my mind and smile at Sennewig’s enthusiasm. “That’s going to work out great. It’s a fantastic idea.” I say encouragingly, as I hold the proffered triangle and feel its weight. He’s actually accomplished a lot in a short amount of time. There’s hope for my chainmail yet.

“Here, I have something else you can work on; if you don’t mind. Rollo suggested I give it to you to try to repair a bit for me.” I heft up my chain onto his worktable and try to spread it out evenly.

Once it is laying out flat, you can truly see the extent of the damage. There is a long silence as he lifts sections of it here and there and runs his thumb and finger along various torn sections, inspecting the loose rings that have lost their brethren to the claws of the bear.

Finally he looks up and apologetically begins to tell me his plans to piece the largest holes and gouges together with leather strips. He’ll also try to pull a bit of the chain from the bottom to patch together the smaller tears. “It’s not going to look very pretty, but it will still protect you a bit,” he states rather sheepishly.

“Hey, it’s better than no armor at all. Sounds like a great plan considering what you have to work with here.” I feel like I’m trying to cheer him up about it. “What can I pay you for the trouble.”

An expression akin to storm clouds crosses his face, “You are The Ranger, you don’t pay for anything!” he states emphatically. 

“Ok, ok...sorry I mentioned it” I start to back out, “Thanks for taking care of it for me”

He only nods and waves me out the door, his attention already drawn completely into his new task.

————————————————

I am outside the gates when I hear a ringing from inside the compound. Considering I’ve been trekking through the woods seeking out plant roots beneath the snowy ground for my healing ointments I think I would notice if there was another raid going on. 

Straightening up, I stretch my back and pull the Snow Lynx wrap a little tighter around my shoulders. It’s not the ringing of Sennewig’s new alarm system, this is the sound of a brass bell. It’s dinnertime! I gather my bags of herbs and make my way slowly through the gates. My chest wound is tender, and jogging or running seems to aggravate it still. There are a couple more days of rest for me here.

Iona, the woman who was fending off goblins with a frying pan, is also who is sewing my coat back together. She is waiting for me on the porch of the main house. “Looks like you could use this” she says as she holds up my repaired friend. She even went back over my earlier seamstress attempts so that the garment is complete again and not so raggedy around the edges. 

The stitched gashes across the chest of my coat mimic the scars on my body perfectly. It is known that people can tell the skill of a Ranger by the scars on their coats. All Rangers wear their long leather outerwear with pride, the more repairs, the better. This will certainly stop people in their tracks, looking at it, even I am surprised I survived.

Slipping the offered garment over my shoulders it feels like home. “Thank you Iona, I really appreciate it.” I mutter as I run my fingers across the newly sewn area. “You did a beautiful job.”

“Not a perfect job, though.” She replies, watching my reaction. “We want folks to see what you’ve survived, after all.” 

———————————————

The following morning, after another filling breakfast, I am almost ready to travel again. There’s only the matter of my armor left to resolve.

This time I don’t sneak up on Senn. I think he’s been looking for me. “I figured you would be coming around here soon.” He says quietly, almost sheepishly. I can’t quite puzzle out what is wrong, but clearly something is bothering him. 

Giving him my best guess, “There wasn’t anything you could do with the shirt, was there?” I try to keep the disappointment out of my voice, but fail. I suppose it’s no armor for me then. At least until I get to Griff Garrison.

“No, no…I wouldn’t say that.” He says haltingly, “I’m just not sure if you’re gonna be…..pleased.”

He turns to the worktable behind him and pulls out the metal garment from beneath a cloth. 

“Wow, ok…well. That’s…..that’s……unique.” I’m dumbfounded by what is being presented to me.

If I thought that this leather coat with the sewn up chest gashes looked Badass, that’s nothing compared to the chainmail. Apparently, using the strips of leather was not viable, as he has connected the broken chain areas with bits of metal. Random bits of metal.

“The leather didn’t seem like enough so I used other metals. You see, I don’t have fine steel at my disposal like a military blacksmith. I’m just used to-“

“Is that a pot handle?” I interrupt his apologetic explanation. Lifting the chainmail so I can see more clearly what is going on. “Is that….part of a hoe?”

Senniwig is about six feet tall, looming by almost a foot over me. But in this instance he seems rather small, and embarrassed. His head hangs as he answers. “Aye, tis bits that would fit. I tried to pick the strongest metals we had. Hoe’s have to be strong……” his voice trails off.

Grinning madly, “It that a fork?…..a piece of a spatula?” I lift the patchwork, turn it over, caressing the new additions; orphan metals incorporated in the looping rings as best as they can fit. Somehow the mishmash appeals to me. Like me, my chainmail is just doing the best that it can to just hold together, neither of us prepared for what we have encountered so far.

“I love it.” 

Sennewig quickly blinks a couple of times, “You what?”

“It’s perfect.”

“It’s what?” Sennewig looks at me as though I’ve lost my mind.

I slip out of my Ranger coat and heft the chain shirt over my clothes. The shoulders still sit right. Moving side to side and twisting around, I imitate swordplay. Nothing cinches or pokes me with a sharp edge. “It feels great. How do I look, Senn?”

It dawns on him, finally, that I am sincere. He cocks his head to the side, “hold that position for a bit,” and comes around to make an adjustment to the back with a pair of crimps. “There, that’s better.” 

I turn back to face him, still grinning. His expression, his stance is more the man I first met. He is pleased with his work after all. 

Slipping my coat back on, I check the fit and it still feels good; a little heavier, I will admit. Nothing that will deter me from running or slow me down though. Thanking him once more, I turn to leave.

“One more thing, Ranger….” He calls out before I’m completely through the door. “Thank you for your service.”

While this is a common phrase used to wish those of us who serve in Ratik’s forces goodbye; I think that today, this time, it’s a way for Senn to thank me personally for appreciating his work no matter how unorthodox it is.

“Thank you for yours.” I throw back at him with a nod and a quick half assed salute. The only kind of salute any self respecting Ranger uses.

——————————————————-

We’re having bear steak for dinner. Since I returned bloody, semi-conscious and towing the carcass of what practically killed me, the smoker has been going non-stop. I overheard that some of the women and men are foregoing their normal routines in order to preserve, smoke, and prep the bear meat into sausages, roasts, steaks and anything else they can think of. Rollo asked me if I wanted the pelt, it was mine to keep. I deferred, it’s not something I want to try to fit into my pack (impossible!), and thanked him for considering me first.

As I enter the main hall I see the bearskin hanging prominently over the grand fireplace at the end of the room. A couple of the men are standing near it admiring it’s size.

It is at that moment my memory crystalizes and I realize who the mysterious swordsman is. The one that looked familiar but I couldn’t place. It’s seeing his profile that does it, for his bounty poster pictures him in profile and the shape of his nose, the set of his jaw are unmistakable even with a beard to hide it. I stare a little too long and he feels my eyes on him, turning in my direction as his instincts compel him to.


	12. Ground Locusts are real

I sit at the long table beside Rollo and Bathilda as has become our habit these last couple of meals. We chat about how the farm is progressing, compare notes between the climate of my family’s land in the Hickory Valley near Marner and this higher elevation. Most everyone is surprised about my farming background and the connection we share.

During a lull in the conversation Rollo chirps, “Hey Lily, why don’t you tell us a story?” The people sitting in our vicinity stop their conversations and look in my direction.

And here is the part of being ‘The Ranger’ that I'm really, really bad at.......storytelling. It is part of the job. Really. They actually warn/explain to us in the Academy that we will be called upon to tell stories of our run not only for entertainment (because what’s more entertaining than hearing about me fighting for my life) but as a way to share news and events to the people who are so far removed from the few cities of Ratik. Our population is sparse and widespread, the Ranger Corp has many duties and apparently news and entertainment are a couple of them. I hate it. I am terrible at it. I never feel like I have anything to say.

And it doesn’t help that my own uncle, Ranger Captain Eldiss Tulas, is famous for his storytelling. Or infamous. It depends on who you ask. He can tell a story magnificently, and he has a ton of them. All of them either scary, exciting, amazing or all of the above. Me? I have: a dead farmer/killed by wolves story, a botched assassin investigation, a swarthy Satyr, and those asshole Pixies....I’m never telling that story.

Stalling for time, I take a bite and chew slowly, quickly sorting the details of the Baron’s little hunting party and decide to tell them about that. Except, for the sake of security, I leave out that it was a member of the royal family and that there was an assassin...which basically leaves… a hunting party that was almost attacked by a lynx. 

\--------------------

Wow, that was not interesting at all....and I told it horribly. They just look at each other and don’t say anything...it was that bad. I’m pretty mortified.

“Wait……I have another one.” I blurt out before I can stop myself.

I might be mistaken, but I swear everyone braces themselves just a little bit.

Taking another long pause and a deep breath, I proceed to tell about the wolves at the Kalera hold. I begin by describing how the weather had changed suddenly, and the correct assumption that the family would be bringing in the sheep. The suspense builds at the discovery of the wolf tracks leading towards the grazing field. Then the action, the battle between order and chaos, man and nature. I describe the moment of judgement, when I had to choose my place in the fray and how I chose wrongly and a man died on my watch. My first stop, my first hold, and I was already a failure.

I never intended to tell them this story, these farmers probably knew Arminus. I didn’t want to remind them of what dangers lurk so close and sometimes even the Ranger can’t come to your aid properly. When I’m finished there is silence. I can’t even look them in the eye, my shame laid bare. A voice down the table, one of the men, toasts Arminus. We all raise our glasses and Bathilda begins to sing “The Shepherd Boy” song. My mother used to sing it to us when we were small “...and when at last the shepherd is gone, his land and love will carry on….”

It is beautiful. She begins and gradually we all chime in and it is the very thing I need to give his loss some meaning. I should have realized that these people, farming people, not unlike me; would understand it all so clearly. The weight of his loss is less on my heart because they took some of it into their own. I will forever be grateful.

Retiring to my room with the too small bed, I feel more together than I have in a long while. In spite of my eventful introduction to this farm community, I have found my center again. I finish my current report by lamplight before turning in for a deep sleep.

——————————————————

During dinner I paid close attention to 'the bounty'. His name is Phaelen. That’s not a common name, I wonder if it is his real one. While I recognized his features, the name escapes me. I checked my official documents this morning and his bounty wasn’t included with the current ones I have, which means it’s an older one, but no less valid.

At breakfast I sit with Rollo and innocently (or not) ask him questions about the people here…..where they’re from, how he met them, etc. Finally, I get to Phaelen and mention how lucky it was to have a swordsman here. 

“How long has he been around?” I try to make it sound like every other question I’ve asked.

Rollo answers more deliberately and thoroughly than he did with the other inquiries, “About 8 or 9 years ago. Just showed up and asked for work. Kept to himself at first but a good hard worker. Over time he has done just about everything having to do with the farm. He is a trusted member of our little family here.”

He pins me with a look and emphasizes, “We don’t much ask a person about their past, we just want good honest work from them. And Phaelen has more than pulled his share all these years. I trust him with my life.” 

“It’s a good thing he found folks like you and Bathilda, I am glad he’s been so dedicated to the farm.” I’m careful with my response, gauging the best course of action.

Rollo gives me a curt nod and excuses himself to get to work. I would be a fool to think he doesn’t suspect why I’m asking and I get his message loud and clear. I decide it’s best to wait to act until I have more information, I make a note in my journal to investigate the bounty further when I’m back at the capital. Until then there is no reason to cause undue harm.

This is my last day of recuperation and I use my time to remix and replenish all my poultices and remedies. My healing herbs are refilled as much as I can find and accept from Bathilda’s stash. I prep rations for my next days of travel and accept the offers of hard cheeses, smoked bear sausages, and some dried apples.

I’ve cleaned my sword countless times and fletched new arrows. Everything is polished, cleaned and repaired. My pack is filled and ready for my next adventure. It’s time to move on and once again I’m filled with excitement for what I’ll find over the next rise, around the next bend.

———————————————————-

They fix a huge, huge, breakfast and have a big send-off for me. I eat a lot. I wrap up some sausages and pancakes in a scrap of my old shirt and slip them into my pocket for later as I’m running.

The Artus’ do some trading with my next stop, Hausen Hold, a dwarven mine built into the side of one of the Griff Range peaks. As I’m looking at my map over breakfast Rollo provides more detailed directions to get there. I sense some friction between him and the dwarves. He doesn’t give me any specifics other than the dwarves don’t fully trust them or think they’re cheating them or something and Rollo doesn’t think they are completely honest in business either. Nobody tells me any details, just “don’t believe everything they (the dwarves) tell you”. Rollo is actually uncharacteristically bitter. I will definitely be keeping my eyes and ears open once I’m there.

I thank everyone profusely.  
I shake Phaelen’s hand specifically and look him in the eye with that “I’m watching you” look.....he seems unimpressed.  
Algen is nowhere to be seen.  
Whipper refuses to be put down, so Bathilda takes him off of me.  
About half of them in unison say “Thank you for your Service”. I don’t visibly grind my teeth. 

————————————————————

Oh it feels good to be out again. And fit. And healed. My path takes me north and then east towards the mountains. I’m effectively avoiding the location where I fought the bear. No need to cover that ground again. 

Very quickly I find the path Rollo described, little more than a faint game trail. I’m making good time on this clear day, but I see clouds gathering above the Griff mountain peaks which means I’ll be seeing a weather change soon enough. Keeping my pace, I run through lunch by pulling my breakfast sausage/pancake rolls out of my pocket. 

Yummy...cold...food. At least I’m still making good time so it’s fine by me. After my lunch on the run I stop for a bit to get my bearings and drink some water. Wolves start howling to the south of my location. Better get moving, I have no interest in fighting a pack of wolves so soon after a week of recovery. Once I’m moving again I don’t hear anymore howls, that’s good.

Late afternoon, before sunset truly begins (although the days are getting shorter) I start looking for a place to camp for the night. Off the path about 20’ I see what I think is the perfect place. A tree-fall with a nice size trunk that will serve as a sort of barrier and protection from the weather. As I near the tree trunk the ground below my feet seems to melt away beneath me. I barely manage to keep my footing and slide straight towards the pinchers of a giant creature that looks like a huge cricket crossed with a walking stick that stole the face of a praying mantis. He’s bigger than a wolf and a slimy green substance drips from his mandibles and hisses as it touches the ground. Oh shit, this is a Ground Locust.

Ground Locust. OK. I didn’t think these things were real. When we were kids my father would tell my brother and I to “watch out for the Ground Locust” when we went to the woods to play. We assumed it was one of those crazy Elven tales he used to scare us to keep us out of trouble. I have portrayed a Ground Locust so many times; jumping out from behind something at my brother to make him scream. Scared the crap out of him so many times! And now I’m facing a real one, right here, right now. Somehow I feel like fate is playing a huge joke on me. I can almost hear it saying “not so funny now, is it!”

As I’m sliding towards it from my fall into his trap; I manage to draw my sword just in time. I take a few swings but the sword isn’t biting into it very well. Then this ugly bastard clamps down on my blade and shoots some of that green substance out of its mouth. It immediately starts to dissolve my coat, shirt, and chain! Acid! 

Quickly I slam my free hand into the creature’s face….like you do to a bad dog to make it release its bite….….and it works! The bug lets go of my sword and arm, backing away a bit as I’ve startled it. The hiss and smell of the acid on my gear fills the air.

Instinctively, I drop my sword and draw an arrow. I let it fly just as the creature opens its mouth to spew the next dose of acid on me. My arrow flies true, straight into it’s mouth, hammering hard into the head; the monster instantly drops prone. I stand there a few seconds longer with my next arrow drawn and ready......sweat trickles down my face, my heart is slamming into my chest and I’m fighting the tremors that want to erupt in my hands. I hold.....bow taut, arrow ready...waiting to see if it is really dead. 

Finally I cannot take the stress anymore and I send my second arrow into it’s skull. Thunk. The arrowhead sinks deep and there’s no reaction from the beast. It must be truly dead. I exhale a shaky breath and realize my sleeve is still smoldering. Jerking out my water skin I try to wash the remaining acid off with little affect. Finally, I just pull out my dagger and cut away the sleeve and jerk the decomposing coat, shirt and chain clean off. My lower arm and hand are slightly burned, however, no more than when I get too much sun in the summer, I was pretty lucky this time.

I am underground and I don’t like it one bit, it’s very creepy in the diminishing light. Since I’m here I should take a few moments to look around and see if any other hapless travelers have succumbed to the monster’s trap. 

Part of my job is to recover remains or personal effects from any victims in the wild. At the end of the run we turn in the belongings to be identified by family members or to serve as identifiers for those reported missing.

Which is exactly what I’m thinking about as I push over a pile of animal bones and uncover a skull with a helm still on it. The craftsmanship on the helm is incredible, and clearly Dwarvish. My grappling hook is Dwarvish and I recognize the style. It just so happens I’m heading towards a dwarven hold so I can probably deduce that this is where our poor fella came from. 

As I’m not so gently trying to knock the skull out from the helm (I think showing up with a decapitated skull is in bad form when trying to impress strangers) I almost completely overlook the huge chest until I’ve practically fallen over it. I open the chest and it is full. I mean full, full, full...like 10,000 coins in it. And they too are dwarven in design. Copper and a bit of silver. OK, so I’m getting the picture here: Dwarven Hold sends courier with chest to Artus farm for trade, never shows up because he fell in here. Artus farm doesn’t get paid hence they don’t trust the Dwarves (as per Rollo) and I bet if I were to talk to the Dwarves they would tell me that I can’t trust the Artus because they will take your money and claim it never arrived. This is how feuds start I think. And the other thing I think is that I’m going to have to somehow get this heavy fucker out of this hole and up the mountain. 

I thought killing the Locust was hard, that wasn’t shit compared with what I’ve gotta do. I could just take the helm and tell them about the chest........but somehow that doesn’t seem nearly as heroic as showing up with the whole lot. And that’s what I’m all about...heroics! Ok, well, maybe not. But I might lose this place once I’m out, or someone comes and steals the goods and it remains unaccounted for. Showing up with the whole thing supports the truth of the story more than anything else. This is going to be a pain in my ass, but doing the right thing is rarely also the easy thing so I start trying to figure out a way to heft this trunk of coins out of the depths of the Ground Locust lair. 

I have never been so happy to have excelled in Ranger Banyon’s “Use of Rope” Class (yes, that’s really the name...no, it’s not a really good name) We were taught all kinds of things beyond making knots “If you want to just make knots you should be a sailor!” (say that with some small pieces of gravel in your mouth and you’ve got a perfect impression of Banyon) And today I am so happy for all the variety of things we learned, like pulleys!

OK, I’ve closed the chest up, tied it up, got a proper branch and now it’s just up to me to pull it out of the hole. Looks like I’ll be the ‘pull’ in pulley! (OK, yeah, that one sucked) On the count of three I pull as hard as I can, I can feel the chest rising. Alright, it’s up and out of the hole....and dangling above it....huh.

Well, I didn’t really think this completely through now did I? I have enough rope to tie off the chest suspended over the hole, at the base of a tree in order to stop and think. I gotta give myself a break from holding ropes and hauling chests so I begin to build yet another sled. Fortunately, my chest isn’t torn open and I’m not currently bleeding out this time so it is much easier to concentrate and get it built quickly. I’m also able to construct a better sled by using some of my climbing gear...leather straps and pitons to hold it together, and stronger skids cut out of the log with my hatchet. Now, back to the dangling treasure. After several minutes of study (I’m not telling you how long so you can laugh into your sleeve about it) I realize that if I can lasso the chest with my backup rope (what, you don’t carry backup rope?) and pull it to the edge of the hole while slowly lowering the other one in a controlled descent........this is going to go badly, I can tell…..

OK....so that actually worked out just as I planned. I’m a little worried.....something bad must be on the horizon. I pulled the chest to the edge of the hole so that it landed perfectly on the sled and everything seems to be holding up just fine. Yep, definitely some trouble is heading my way, nothing goes this easy for me without repercussions.

It’s now fully dark and getting colder. I endup making my camp near the tree fall I was originally going towards when all hell broke loose under me. I’ve made a fire, and am currently enjoying a smoked bear sausage while leaning against the chest. My guess is that most predators in the forest stayed clear of this area and what dwelled beneath, at least I’m hoping that is true as I fall asleep by the crackling fire. 

—————————————-

I sleep through dawn. My lazy days on the Artus farm have made me soft. Not that I have ever been an early riser by choice. Another sausage and a hunk of cheese serve as breakfast while I wake up better. It has started snowing, the clouds I noted yesterday have arrived. It’s simply pretty here, but when I look in the direction I will be traveling I can see it’s building up to another blizzard. It’s finally time to put the fur lining in my coat; I might get hot while running, but better to do it now before it’s too late and I’m freezing to death. 

Dragging the sled behind me is difficult at first. I find the trail again before it gets lost in the snow and follow it up the mountain to the west. My pace is slower, but still steady; it’s amazing how well the sled moves over the snow. I re-orient myself in open areas and then put my head down and pull.....and pull....and pull. Over every rise I hope to see Hausen Hold’s entrance but never do. At mid-day when I stop to rest and check my bearings against my map I realize I’m in trouble. This blizzard is the real deal and I can’t see beyond 3’ in any direction. I’ve managed to get above the tree-line so I have absolutely no protection from the elements. With the lack of visibility I could get far off route and never know it. I have to dig in until the storm passes.

Time to build a snow cave.

With nothing.

I forgot to get a shovel before leaving Marner. Like every first year Ranger I went to the supply house to gear up. No one makes sure you get everything you need, it’s expected you already know that. Perhaps it’s another a test of sorts. Everybody picks up the essentials: armor, sword, bow, and quiver full of arrows (I took 2). Beyond that you pack what you feel you will need for your particular run. 

For instance, I grabbed mountain climbing equipment since I knew I’d be in the Griff Range, and extra rope because....extra rope! But not so much with cooking utensils as I’m not that into camp cooking and clearly....no shovel, because....I screwed up. So I’m dragging the sled to a large snow drift and going through my pack to see what the hell I’ve got to dig with. I end up with my hatchet and my small iron stew pot. It’s better than nothing. Using the hatchet to break up the snowpack and scooping it out with the pot, after several hours I have dug out a cave big enough for me and the sled. By this time it’s already dark and the snow is falling even harder. No visibility at all. 

I’m exhausted from pulling and digging all day. No fire, I didn’t bring any firewood from the forest before getting caught here by the storm. It’s rations and water for dinner. Snuggling into my fur lining, I lay on the hard packed snow and finally fall asleep.


	13. Hausen Hold

I wake up cold and hungry.

It’s pitch dark, even with my Elvish vision. I can barely make out the shape of the chest beside me. The snow has completely filled in the entrance of the cave.

In the small dark space I stretch out and flex my fingers to get the blood flowing in my digits again. I crawl to the cave entrance and beat away the new snow closing me in carefully. I don’t need this whole thing to collapse on me. I’m able to clear away the entrance relatively quickly only to see that the blizzard is actually worse than it was the day before. The howling wind, along with the low clouds and falling snow have maintained non-existent visibility. 

Sighing heavily and resting against the chest, I contemplate my choices. There are few; stay here or get lost in the storm. If I am to stay, I need to do something about the biting cold. It is difficult to move the coin chest while kneeling, but I’m able to shift it off of the sled skids. Using my hatchet I hack away at the wood until I’ve got enough pieces to start a small fire near the entrance so the smoke has somewhere to go.

The next day is more of the same. The wind is howling and making the snowflakes like little daggers hitting your skin. I usually only wear fingerless leather gloves that don’t inhibit firing my arrows but thankfully I have, in the bottom of my bag....well hidden, because they are so damn ugly....the matching woolen hat and gloves my mother made for me as a gift for my first run. 

OK, let me tell you about my mother and hats. First of all, I’ve never seen her wear one. Ever. Secondly, she loves knitting them for people and giving them as gifts. She’s not that great of a knitter. In fact, my Dad, Renner (my brother’s nickname), and I used to call her a knotter instead of a knitter. But not where she could hear us. Because if she heard you making fun of her knitting she would make you a hat, and then make you wear it. 

I was about 9 years old when I figured her out. There was a wine seller trying to convince Dad that he could “help with your business” but the man didn’t seem to know anything about what we did or wine itself (other than you drink it). When he was leaving, my mother “gifted” him with one of her hats. He put it on and thanked her profusely. He looked like a duck had died mid-flight and landed squarely on his head. It was one of the funniest things I’ve ever seen...to this day. And for a moment I saw a glint in my mother’s eyes as she inspected it on him. 

My father and I were leaning against the fence near the stables when I said “Does mom give people hats as a joke or punishment”. Out of the corner of my eye I see him turn slowly towards me and he whispers “Never let her hear that or you will be wearing a hat every day for the rest of your life!” I'm thinking of that moment as I retrieve her gift. It is a bright rust colored hat, with oversized ear flaps that blend to uneven braided strands that I can tie under my chin. It looks like an owl with a white chest, face, and tall white pointed ears on the top. The rest is the bright orangy rust color. My hat has ears. And two mismatched large round buttons for eyes. My hat has ears and eyes....and it is an owl. See...her hats are jokes. And dammit if this isn’t the warmest most ridiculous looking joke hat in the entire nation of Ratik and I am so thankful to have it. 

One of the matching gloves has an extra finger. What the hell is that?!

My little digging pot is also perfect for melting snow for water. Before I know it I’m holding a mug of hot tea, warming my hands on my dented little cup with bright orange gloves and matching hat. The cave has warmed considerably, I know that snow can actually be a good insulator and am happy that my training is paying off. 

———————————————————

It’s been a few days since I holed up in this cave. Every morning I awaken to the entrance almost completely filled in with snow and the fire from the night before is barely warm embers. Digging out with my stewpot warms be up before I get the fire going again. I have cut up the entire sled, preserving my rope of course, to keep the fire going day after day. Thankfully my rationing has meant I’m not going hungry yet. Although I am pretty bored out of my mind waiting for the snow to stop.

It has not stopped falling once during the last…almost week now. It gets heavier and lighter, but flakes constantly fall. Sometimes the wind howls and blows it around like a cyclone, whipping it into my new home, threatening the fire, my only source of warmth.

Today I have to venture out. For one thing, I have got to move around and get my blood circulating, get my strength back up. But mainly I need to get more wood. I could kick myself for blithely trudging past the treeline, not taking the low slung clouds into account before I stranded myself up here. I have devised a plan though. Hopefully a good one.

Tying both of my skeins of rope together I have close to sixty feet. One of the ends gets attached to the heavy chest while the other ties around my waist. Gradually I make my way out of the cave and down the mountain slope towards where I last saw trees. I made the right choice to hunker down during the blizzard, I can’t see shit in front of me. I only know I’m moving in the right direction because it is downhill.

For a brief moment the wind lessens and I can see trees before me. Before I can get to them, however, my rope pulls up taut. It’s a tease, I’m only about 20 feet away from the closest wiry pine. Risking getting lost, I untie the rope and attach it to my bow; sinking one end deep into the snow. I tie the brightly colored hat (thanks mom!) to the top, like an orange flag. I should be able to find my way back here….I hope.

It takes a couple of hours in the freezing snowstorm to cut down the smallest twisting pine in the small clutch of trees hanging onto the side of the mountain. Every so often I glance up the slope, making sure I can still find my marker. As light wanes it gets harder and harder to spot it. Once the tree is felled I grab the truck near the lowest branch and start dragging.

The bow is half buried by new snow when I find it again. Even though I’m warmed by my work I gratefully replace my hat back on my head, tie the end of the rope to the tree and begin the arduous journey back up to the cave, gathering the coils as I go.

Exhausted, I open the snowed in entrance of my little cave by essentially falling fully through it. The best decision I’ve made on my run so far was taking this trunk. It was the anchor I needed to find my way home. Once I’ve rested for a couple of beats I begin attacking the tree with vigor, cutting off several branches. I make a nice bed with boughs of soft green needles. The snow has changed over to a hard driving ice storm, I’m thankful to have returned to the cave just in time to miss that.

Feeling confident with my acquisition of the tree, I make a slightly larger fire and melt snow in my stewpot shovel. Cutting some of the smoked bear meat in it I make a rather awful broth for dinner. I need to start carrying more vegetables or something for times like this. I just never really thought about being stranded on a mountainside when I packed my gear. That’s what it means to be a first year I guess, trial and error and hope you don’t starve.

I splurge and have a nighttime cup of tea as I listen to the howling winds that have picked up speed, occasionally swirling into my little encampment. Hopefully it will begin to clear up tomorrow.

————————————————————

It doesn’t clear the next day, or the day after that, or the following week. I’m actually amazed that a snowstorm could be this strong for this long. Is this normal? Why didn’t anyone warn me. I seem to ask that question a lot these days. In the Academy we know about the percentage of Rangers that don’t make it. It’s just that I imagined those that fell being locked in battle with overwhelming odds and finally getting killed after taking most of their adversaries with them. It never occurred to me that they starved and froze to death while waiting out a blizzard on the side of a mountain peak. It’s not a very heroic way to go, but very realistic. I’m hungry all the time now.

—————————————————-

The last of the pine tree is being burned tonight. It only makes sense as I’m also drinking the last of my tea and eating the last of my rations. I’ve make a week of food go as long as 16 days. That’s pretty good, but there’s no denying that tomorrow it’s all gone. The boughs I’ve been sleeping on are the last thing to go in the fire, so it will be a hard night sleep on the cold snow floor once more. I let the snow pile up in the doorway many days ago and only knock out a bit at the top to allow the smoke to escape. I don’t know whether to just get more wood (If I can find that small stand again) or just take my chances and go up, trying to find Hausen. Undecided, I fall asleep, dreaming of home….and food.

It’s the light that finally wakes me. There is a spot on the wall where sunlight has pierced through my chimney hole. It is exceptionally bright as it reflects off the white snow. Excitedly, I throw what little energy I have into clearing the snow cave entrance.

Bright sunlight greets me for the first time since I left the Artus Farm. I can see piercing blue sky. It’s almost too much and I have to close my eyes quickly from the blinding whiteness of the landscape. I can’t believe it! The storm finally broke and not a minute too soon. My laughter echoes down the mountainside as I happily cheer my changing luck.

Packing up my gear, I wrap rope around the chest and make another harness with loops for me to drag it along behind me. It seems ridiculous to spend extra energy on the thing, but it’s turned into my mission…to get the treasure back to it’s owners.

There is no trail whatsoever, just solid deep snow. I’m a little thankful for the ice storm that happened in between all the snow, the hardened crust it thick enough to support my weight and the weight of the chest. The loud crunching with every step is a bit unnerving though.

My direction is determined through simple dead reckoning….hopefully I’m moving towards the right location. I thought that I was pretty close, and eventually I reach the peak of this particular slope after 2 hours or so, but the entrance to the hold is not here. 

I hike across the mountain’s face further north....I know from my map that the doors to the hold are in the mountain face somewhere near here, but technically the dwarves aren’t within our borders so we don’t have a definite location marked on our maps. 

The main reason why Ratik Rangers are sent here is to strengthen ties between Ratik and the dwarves. It’s a bit of diplomacy on the part of the crown. So I’m going through all this to ensure we maintain good rapport and remain trading partners. This is the other reason I’m lugging my treasure chest companion around; it will definitely strengthen our trading relationship when it is returned.

After another 5 hours I’m still walking, dragging the heavy ass anchor and noting that it will be getting dark soon. I start to search for another good location to camp when I come across what actually seems to be a carved stone step emerging from the side of the mountain. Shaking my head and rubbing my eyes to clear my vision I look up the mountainside. Sure enough, partially covered with snow, is a wide, wide, stone staircase. 

I am elated until I look at the chest and then the stairs…..chest…stairs…chest...stairs.

Oh, bother. I wind my rope up to where I’m gripping it just above the knots securing the rope around the chest. I turn around so I can ascend the stairs backwards, dragging my prize. Kathunk (up one step) kathunk (up the next step), kathunk, kathunk, (wow they really made this chest sturdy) kathunk, kathunk, etc, etc.

Another hour later.......

Kathunk, “If I ever see another bleedin”……  
kathunk.....”chest again in a hole”…..  
kathunk....”i’m just gonna beat the”……  
kathunk.......”ever loving”…..  
kathunk.....”shit out of it”…….  
kathunk......”and shoot it with arrows”….  
kathunk....”just for fun!”

I smell smoke. More precisely, I smell tobacco smoke. And I swear this chest is chuckling at me now. I stand upright, popping my back in the process, and look around. Yep, definitely pipe tobacco and some voices? I keep a hand on the rope, letting out some slack, and take some steps up. Before me are the largest and most elaborately carved doors I have ever laid eyes on. They are unlike anything I’ve ever seen and the only thing that gains my attention away from them is the clearing of a throat.

My eyes are drawn to the source of the smoke and chuckling. I see two very hairy and very wide men half smiling at me. One has a pipe. They say something to me in dwarvish that I don’t understand and as they come towards me my exhaustion takes over. I feel my limbs betray me and start to collapse on the steps. One dwarf rushes to grab me while the other grabs the ropes, thank goodness. They are babbling both to me and each other but I have no idea what they are saying.

In common I thank them for helping me and say hello. They frown and look like they don't understand. So I repeat the same thing louder and slower, which doesn’t help at all. They just look at each other and shrug. The one who helped me up rushes to open the doors and hollers something inside. The one with the chests kathunks it up a couple of steps, stops, unties it, picks it up and puts it on his shoulder and hands me my rope. I can’t help but narrow my eyes and scowl at him a bit. He just chuckles and waves for me to go inside.

I enter the doors that lead into a huge atrium. I actually can’t see the top of the ceiling in this space. There is an enormous smelter/furnace over to one side and I am immediately engulfed in warm air. A female dwarf is coming towards me with an amused expression. For a split second her eyes flit up and I remember I have an orange knitted owl on my head. I quickly jerk it off and hear more snickering behind me. 

“Greetings Ranger. My name is Yilly Hausen Falkul. Welcome to Hausen Hold!”


End file.
